Eternal
by Whigmus Lister
Summary: The Justice Lords have been taken down but EVERY Earth needs a Justice League. This is a story of rebuilding and redemption, with a little help from the REAL Batman. Sequel to "The Powers That Be" and "A Better World" with some spoilers.
1. Chapter 1: The Only Way

Disclaimer: DC owns all these characters as far as I know. No profit is gained by this fic.

As always, a mighty thanks to Kipling-Nori for being the mega-beta and so much more.

This story is a sequel of sorts to "A Better World". There are spoilers. It is also a companion piece to another story of mine; The Powers That Be (which is a prequel to "A Better World"), but I'm going to try to write it so you don't have to read that one. We'll see how it goes.

* * *

Chapter 1: The Only Way

"I have to admit, Alfred," Bruce started with a sigh, "I've never seen Gotham so clean… so… _ideal._"

He leaned back into the leather sofa in his study and covered his face with both hands, wiping the exhaustion from his eyes. Chalk it up as another in a long string of events he had thought impossible before the Justice League had been formed.

"Yes, but at what cost, sir?" Alfred asked as he set down the tray of ice water and fruit on the mahogany table nearby.

"That's the catch, isn't it?" Bruce replied. "Are the little freedoms worth the pain or is the over-all concept of a Utopian society better in the long run?"

"Well, I can speak from experience, sir, in coming to America from Great Britain. You see, over there, many people will behave very differently in public than they do in private because they don't wish to appear improper. Keeping up appearances and that sort of thing. Here, well, so many people do whatever they feel and far too often are not held accountable for their actions."

Bruce turned thoughtfully to his butler and waited for more pearls of wisdom to sneak out with this sanitized words.

"Those are very loose generalizations, of course," Alfred continued casually, "but in many ways they show opposite ends of the spectrum. We're speaking of an ideal society where everything is pristine, yet the people are devoid of any individuality, verses a radical, anarchistic approach where liberty rules and everyone lives for one's self."

He paused, standing tall and proper, thinking deeply about the concept. His old eyes showed the spark of the genius behind them and his expression gave precious hints towards the lessons that he considered. So many civilizations throughout human history strived to find the balance between the two extremes about which he was speaking, and he was well-read on many of them. His maturity often had given him clarity to understand that he and his charge were neck-deep in a life that was forming Gotham in the annals of history into another one of countless cities striving to achieve that goal of perfection. He sometimes wondered and worried if Bruce really understood the magnitude of his life on this planet. Alfred knew that he was needed to keep the younger man on track, if not for his love for him or for his long-deceased parents, then for the city and the world in general.

"It's a hard balance," Bruce agreed, much to Alfred's delight. "This mess with the Justice Lords has really forced me to consider a lot of things I hadn't before – at least not to the degree I do now. A better world than what we have here _is achievable_, but I'd rather see Gotham burn than to see the League go down that road. I'm going to have to remember that… and keep it in mind more than I have been, I think."

"That's a good idea," an eerily familiar voice sounded from the doorway, making both men jump.

Bruce was on his feet and ready for action before he recognized the unexpected visitor. Once he did, he understood that action might not be necessary, but kept his body tight just in case.

Looming in the doorway, the Justice Lord Batman waited for the others to accept his presence. When it was clear that no confrontation would take place, despite the tension in the room, he calmly pulled off his cowl and strode silently towards a chair. He made himself comfortable while the others kept their eyes locked on his every move.

"I secured the others in my Batcave," he began as if he were sitting in an interrogation room. "and I began disassembling the trans-dimensional portal when I found something in my readings. I had to tell you right away because it involves your world, too."

The others stood sternly, looking down at him while keenly assessing their surroundings, just in case this visitor was simply a diversion. Despite their cooperation earlier that day, there was still very little trust.

"While the portal was opened, an unknown source transmitted a communication through it. I don't know who sent it, but it started from this side. And I don't know who it was intended for on my side, but a response was made. I've only been able to piece together parts of the code."

"And?" Bruce said in his deep Batman voice.

"It seems that it was a message informing somebody in my world that the Justice Lords have been stripped of their powers."

The silence dominating the room outlined that the magnitude of that statement was understood.

"Somebody's trying to coordinate an attack."

* * *

Bruce's fingers pummeled the keyboards. His counterpart stood stone-like behind him agreeing with everything he saw.

"The internal sensors detected a huge spike in electromagnetic activity while the portal was opened," he announced, not caring that the visiting Batman already understood that. "The patterns and the magnitude were erratic. In fact, it looks like it would be virtually impossible for anybody outside the cave to actually pinpoint the location of the portal, but they _would_ be able to tell that one was open and somewhere in the vicinity of Gotham."

"That's good news," Batman replied. "They wouldn't be able to trace the readings back here."

"No, but clearly somebody _did_ detect _something_. Otherwise, they wouldn't have known enough to send the signal."

Working to recreate the timeline, the two Batmen deduced that the portal was first opened long enough for almost anybody on the planet to detect it, especially if they were looking for it. The second time it was used (when the Justice Lords began their charade), it was opened for a very brief time, but long enough for a coded transmission. The third time (when the Justice League returned), a response had been sent. The final time (when the Justice Lords were sent back) was the one with the disturbing message about the Justice Lords and their current status.

Once the Justice Lord's Batman discovered the intruding signal, he constructed equipment and set parameters to prevent any further unwanted transmissions and came immediately to the other dimension, seeking help. He brought with him a one-of-a-kind device that could send an encrypted message back to his own world, opening a secured portal for the return trip.

Bruce leaned his forehead in to his hand, his elbow planted on the desktop. He was lost deep in thought. Only a few feet away, his counterpart was thinking virtually the same things.

"Who?" Bruce finally asked.

"I don't know," the other replied. "That's why I came here."

Bruce considered the answer for a moment.

"No it's not," he said after he pieced together many things. "You didn't need to come here - you could have communicated a message."

He swiveled in his chair to face the Lord Batman, who subsequently turned away without responding.

"There's something else," Bruce declared.

Batman sat down and took a second to collect his thoughts. Then, in true Batman form, stated things as plainly as possible, regardless of their true magnitude.

"I can't do it alone," he admitted simply.

"Do what?"

"Reform the Justice Lords and re-establish them to a position where they can help the people of my earth."

"Why would you _want_ to? You stole power once. You betrayed the trust of the people. What makes you think you won't do it again?!"

Every ounce of the severity and tone Bruce used was received in full. And Batman knew he was justified in what he said and the voice he used. But it still stung.

"That's my point," Batman confessed, his voice a little softer than he wanted it to be. "I've already proven that I don't have what it takes for that big of a task. The odds are stacked against me too high. But this message… you can't deny that there are still forces out there that only a fully-powered Justice organization can handle. My world _needs_ a Justice League like yours. But I don't trust myself to make sure that it's done right."

Bruce's keen mind ran through countless considerations and angles, calculating the details that his counterpart left unsaid.

"You feel that you… not just the others, but _you, yourself_… will fall again for the trappings of power too easily."

"Yes."

The two men sat in silence for a moment, considering the others' thoughts. Finally, the visitor added more to his confession.

"I want you to do it for me."

Bruce couldn't hide his shock.

"Me?"

"Yes. I want to trade places with you."

"Absolutely not."

"Hear me out."

"No."

Bruce got up and pointed to Batman's portable triggering device.

"Use that thing, get the hell out of my world and never come back!"

Batman suddenly turned to the offensive.

"Do you think sending me away and hiding your head in the sand will keep you safe?!"

No answer.

"I'm not going to deny," Batman continued, "that you did my world a favor by righting a great wrong, but in doing so, you left us vulnerable to attack."

"You brought that upon yourselves," Bruce spat back. "If it wasn't us taking you down, it would have been somebody else."

"But it _was _you. And what you're not acknowledging is the fact that your organization is _still_ subject to the same trappings that we fell into. Not only that, but now there's somebody in _both_ our worlds that knows the other exists. What makes you think that they won't coordinate and attack in both places?"

Bruce had no answer. He turned his head in stubborn frustration, conceding both points.

"You've given this some thought," he observed darkly.

"Yes."

"And this is what you've come up with? For you and I to trade places?"

"Temporarily, yes."

Bruce took a breath and considered the idea deeply while the other expounded.

"Your organization is already on the right track. You were probably thinking about the best way to _keep_ them on that track when I got here. There's no doubt that you can do it, but _I_ have the wisdom that comes with experience. I've been there. I can make _sure_ they don't fall like we did. In a way, it's an easier task; they just have to be kept in line."

Bruce internally acknowledged the truth of that observation, but he didn't like any part of it. Still, the other continued.

"You don't have the burden of knowing some of the things that I know. Sometimes it takes an outsider to point out the things that are wrong and make them right. You have just enough 'outsider' in you to make that happen for the Justice Lords. And you and I both know that there's nobody else in either of our worlds that could keep those five in line."

_Those FIVE. No Flash._

"It really is the only way, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"We would have to keep it a secret."

"Agreed."

Pause.

"Alright. I'm in."

* * *

**AN: This is the start of another Epic story, my friends. And I gotta tell ya... I'm pretty pumped about the whole thing. There are SO many ways to go with this - almot TOO many. And while I have a pretty good idea of where I'm going to take it, I'm also going to ask a favor to all you hard-thinkers out there... Tell me what you want. Send me a Personal Message of an idea you think would be cool to encorporate. I can't promise you that I'll use it, but I want the story to be as fun to read as possible! Just send it as a PM and not a review (otherwise everybody will know!). Now, that being said, that doesn't mean I don't want reviews!**


	2. Chapter 2: Fallen Gods

* * *

Chapter Two: Fallen Gods

* * *

Indignity was something that he hadn't experienced in years.

Clark Kent, still in his black and white Superman uniform, paced for hours like a caged tiger. The three walls were absolutely solid and the fourth was an impenetrable Plexiglas shield. The automated systems delivered sustenance that required no utensils. He had access to sanitized television. He had all the toiletries and hygiene products necessary. In short, he was a very well-equipped prisoner.

And every fiber in his core was preoccupied with hatred.

It had been nearly two full days since he was dragged, ranting and raving, back into his own dimension and tossed into his new cell. Batman's face was the last living thing he had seen. It was the face he burned into his mind… the face that represented the entire reason he was where he was.

There had been more than enough time to contemplate what had really happened.

The first shock in the horrendous string of events was finding the Justice League – the ones that they were trying to _help_ - actually siding with _Lex Luthor._ Try as he might, he couldn't fathom what he had witnessed; basically, himself (in a way) and Lex Luthor working side-by-side…

That was his initial reaction: shock. It didn't even occur to him, in his seething state, to recall that he had actually met and plotted with his own Lex Luthor just a few short years ago.

The next devastation to his life was to find out that his own friend and colleague had turned traitor. Batman had been the one to usher him and his teammates back to their own world and secure them in the holding cells.

All the while, the dark, brooding figure didn't say a single word. He didn't make the transaction pleasant either. He handled each one of them as roughly as he would have any common street thug. He used the same techniques to torque their arms and direct their bodies, forcing them to march into their new prison homes. He made absolutely sure that each one of them understood, regardless of what they had done in the past, they were now nothing more than mere mortals… and he was still Batman.

The first few hours of solitude allowed countless, unorganized thoughts to flow through Clark 's head. He pondered everything from escape to ambush to ways of getting back his powers. He tried to calm himself. He tried to exercise, looking for any indication of superhuman strength returning. He pounded and kicked the walls. But mostly, he hated.

He hated the whole damn planet.

He hated the humans, because he no longer considered himself one of them. He hated their petty wars and their insignificant gripes. He hated their self-serving ways and their selfish views of their little world. He no longer considered that anybody on Earth was worth a damn, really. They were like annoying brats that he had to babysit into behaving. But he also acknowledged long ago that he had to maintain an appearance of benevolence to avoid the fear and eventual uprising that would grow if he was seen as an outside force trying to dominate their lives. If they ever really discovered the truth… If they believed that he was an alien that was beating them into submission, he knew that he'd have six and a half billion people to lobotomize. Not that he hadn't considered doing it and just leaving for some other planet to try to exist on… but sentiment seemed to hold him fast.

He tried to work on what he supposed was still called a 'relationship' with Lois. It was possible that a Kryptonian could conceive a child with one of these people, and he would need an heir before too long. But she had the audacity to question him at every turn. She insisted on making him explain the reasons why he was making the choices he was making.

She tried his patience.

Their relationship was little more than a formality any more. He recognized that there were still _some_ redeeming qualities in her – after all, she never did reveal that Clark Kent was Superman's secret identity.

He had fabricated a way for Clark to take an indefinite leave of absence from the Daily Planet, for which he congratulated himself as one of his more subtle strokes of genius. He had used that disguise on occasion to walk among the masses to see the world from their point of view – not the tainted picture they showed him when they were guarding themselves in His Lordship's presence. So, for Lois to actually keep that secret was something that he classified as admirable. But then again, perhaps she was doing it to make sure that she still had some kind of leverage… some way to make sure that he didn't discard her so quickly. Basically, a way for her to look out for herself. Typical human.

And so, he grinded his teeth in his cell, hating and hating and hating. He hated them all. But he absolutely despised Bruce Wayne and Batman with all his Kryptonian heart. Of all the things that his unfocused mind dwelled on, it was the slow, agonizing torture that he would exact on that particular human… the one he abhorred most. His heat vision would be hell. He would freeze that man's hands and feet until his fingers and toes shattered. He'd snap his elbows and knees in his crushing grip. He'd spin his body around so fast that the bones would rip apart from each other. He'd shake his head until his brain sloshed into mush. And only when Bruce Wayne begged for the sweet release of death, would Superman mercifully grant it to him.

* * *

J'onn couldn't stop thinking about it.

He knew something like this could happen – or more likely _would_ happen.

These earth people were so different in so many ways, yet so alike to his own kind in so many others that even after all this time amongst them, after all the contact he'd had, he still was finding that he didn't really understand them at all. He also understood them perfectly. And so he occasionally stopped trying and just continued to exist.

At times, it seemed like the whole of earth's societies needed a reset button. They needed to be brought into the realization that their existence and their planet were really very fragile. Like a child playing too roughly with an expensive toy, they could break it and not realize what they had done until it was too late. For some time, he had simply tried to right the small wrongs, helping where he knew he could, hoping they'd come to realize that same truth. He grew fond of many people and learned to trust and admire others. He had close friends and even thought that he might be able to experience some form of love again. But when it came to the decisions on how to proceed with human events, he didn't have any confidence at all in his own judgment. He trusted the others' judgment more because he frankly didn't want the responsibility of commanding a whole planet. He knew that the peoples of earth would never see him as one of their own, so he didn't even try. He just followed when the others led. And he backed them up with ferocious loyalty, regardless of any misgivings he may have hidden.

When he told the other universe's Justice League that he was sorry for leading them into a trap, he wasn't lying. He truly was sorry for doing that to them. Watching them in action, seeing their world, as chaotic as parts of it seemed… it reminded him of the Earth that he first met so many years ago. Back then, it was too foreign to offer any source of comfort to him. But it also intrigued him. It awakened parts of his heart and soul that had been dormant for eons. As much of an outsider as he knew he was, he also felt, in those early days, like a fresh start - a new beginning – could be possible for him. He had started to forget that by the time Flash was killed.

It wasn't until he saw the other universe that he realized how numb he had grown. They had the same problems that his own Earth once had, but they also had a beauty that had been stripped out of his world – by him and his colleagues.

When he had fought against his opposite, his rage was fueled mostly by his loyalty to his teammates, but there was also a significant part of his energy rising up out of jealousy of that other J'onn J'onnz. That other Martian was a servant to the people of Earth, while he was their master, yet that other Martian seemed to beam with a confidence and contentment that he didn't realize he had lost.

Isolated in his cell for so long, his form eventually reverted to that of a natural Martian state, he fought desperately to overcome the solitude. He could no longer shape shift. His body was forever that of a green alien that the people around him could never fully accept. And his mind was unbearably silent.

He couldn't hear anybody's thoughts. He couldn't feel any emotions other than those festering within him. The walls were only a small part of this torture, because they merely prevented him from seeing or hearing people with his eyes and ears. It was his loss of telepathy that absolutely agonized him. For hours, he forced the limited television stations to cycle through, again and again and again. He needed more stimulation to compensate for the void of feelings and thoughts. It was like he was alone again on Mars, back in those terrible, unending years of solitude. It was a feeling he hoped that he'd never experience again.

He was afraid.

* * *

Men.

It was men that caused this. Men like Lex Luthor and Superman.

And Batman.

For thousands of years she didn't trust them, even hated them. She didn't question why – the queen, her mother, simply said that it had to be so. And she obediently complied.

The changes in her were gradual, however. She started wondering about _why_ her mother commanded such things and what could have taken place to make her feel like she did. It never occurred to her to question why she was curious… she just was.

Looking back, she could tell that it was approximately fifteen years before she left Themyscira that she really started to wonder if all those things she heard about men were true. She had talked about it with Bruce one night after one of their marathon love-making sessions. He immediately pointed out that such a time line coincided with the same time he turned eighteen and he jokingly suggested that her gods had injected her with curiosity about men because they knew that somewhere in Gotham, her future lover just became of legal age. He teased her about how she was destined to have sex with him. Back then, that kind of charm and humorous arrogance made her laugh.

Now it made her sick to her stomach.

Sitting in her cell, she tried to force herself to not think about it. She didn't pray to her gods any more because she had given up believing in them. They never helped her any way. They never appeared before her in some majestic aura of light and power. They never gave or took away her strength. They never watched her back in a fight. They simply weren't there. So she didn't pray. She didn't think. She didn't try to analyze what went wrong to put her in her prison. No, she just blamed men.

Those happy times not so long ago, when she and Bruce would steal away for quick romance, or find some tiny European town where their disguises would afford them a night's worth of anonymity… those times were unreal to her now. It was as if they weren't even her own memories anymore. They were something she had imagined while reading about fairytale romances in a book – if she even bothered to try to remember them. Their relationship had grown colder and harder over the past two years. They had sex, they didn't make love. They coexisted, they didn't live together. They argued for the sake of beating the other, not for the sake of playful dominance and the romantic creativity of making up.

They weren't in love any more. They hadn't been for quite some time.

And now, this last betrayal was simply the perfect ending to a hard-learned chapter of reality for her. Men were not to be trusted. They existed for the sole reason of hating them. They stood for everything that was wrong with this world. They _were_ the wrong of the world. If they didn't provide sperm for the species, they wouldn't be needed.

She had no trouble convincing herself that these things were the truth. She may have had a lapse of judgment for a few years, but wisdom comes from the pain of experience. And her experiences had only proved that what her mother told her for millenia was correct: Men were for hating.

But her mother and her so-called 'sisters' of Themyscira weren't the answer any more, either. Before all this shit happened in her life, she at least had the salvation of that tiny paradise island to call home. She had centuries of memories of love and devotion from those around her. She had their examples and their teachings and their gods to comfort her. Not any more.

During the Justice Lords' rise to power, Hippolyta tried softly, then not so softly to discourage her daughter from leading by rule. She told Diana that she was sent to Patriarch's World to be a beacon; to show the world that love and honor were the virtues upon which healthy societies were built. She warned her daughter that reigning with tyrannical perfection would not command those qualities, only destroy them. Then she outright commanded her 'little sun and stars' to cease all acquaintance with the Justice Lords and return to Themyscira.

Diana didn't listen.

By the time the Justice Lords outlawed the Olympic Games, Hippolyta had disowned Diana as the Princess of Themyscira, as a citizen of their island and as a daughter. She closed the borders of their tiny island nation and petitioned their gods to isolate them once again from any outside contact. She even forbade the name Diana to be uttered within her presence.

Diana didn't care.

To Diana, the ancient, outdated ways were useless. Since the dawn of time, the Amazon lifestyle hadn't suppressed one war, hadn't saved one society worth saving, and hadn't shown peace and love to the rest of the world. No, to Diana, the Amazon isolationism was just a show of cowardice. And the fact that she and the other Justice Lords could come and go to Themyscira as they pleased was just another example of absentee gods. Those old ways were little more than a joke.

She reigned. She and others like her ruled the world and made it a _better_ world. Crime was fabulously absent. The laws – all laws, not just the ones hand-picked by corrupt judges and law agencies – were enforced to the letter. Order was the way of life now. There were no surprises.

But she didn't have that order any more. She sat, brooding in her cell about what she had done wrong. She had trusted men. She had trusted a man… _that_ man. Her lover. It made her convulse with disgust to remember that she had shared a bed with him… that she had allowed him to touch her and enter her body. She couldn't even recall what had possessed her to even consider him worthy of her attention, let alone her affection.

In that other world, fighting against those other beings (she couldn't begin to consider them 'heroes'), she had a moment to unleash her wrath. That foolish woman that happened to look like her… Diana saw in her the stupid optimism and childish dreams of naiveté that she once had. She saw her fighting alongside the others… working with that other _Batman_ against her. It was indescribable – the feeling of pleasure it brought to blast that woman's face with her fists. It felt like a chance to go back in time and tell her younger self to not be so damned foolish. It was like a gift of gifts to punish that other woman – that other version of herself. The outfit, the hair… so much like how she appeared back in those simpler days when she had no idea what kind of deceit humanity was truly capable of. She hated the memory of herself. She wanted to destroy her old self.

And she wanted to destroy _him_. She had calmly lifted the huge slab of concrete over her head and strode over to where he lay, weak and helpless. With each step she took towards his demise, her heart thundered harder and louder in her chest. She looked forward to killing him.

She knew that the Batman of her world must have betrayed them – how else could the others have returned? Even if it wasn't betrayal, then it was his incompetence that let them escape. Either way, it was the last nail in the coffin of her affection for him. He was just another man to hate. Even better, he was exactly like that pitiful man in the funny black outfit lying on the floor that she was about to destroy. Her heart almost felt giddy in the anticipation of crushing his body.

And she had been robbed of that, too.

She hated men. She hated her mother. She hated the Amazons. She hated her gods. There was nothing left on earth for her to have any affection for. All she knew was that she had to get out of that damned cell.

* * *

Betrayal was in her soul.

Shayera had been sent to Earth on a mission of reconnaissance. She was to report back to Thanagar on the forces she found there. She was sent there to spy.

The mission had been simple enough. It was even a fairly easy task to play the role of a hero for the people she found there. They were simple, unsophisticated, meek little people and with her strength and abilities it was easy to assume a role above them.

She just never counted on meeting The Justice League.

In the beginning, it was a natural extension of her mission. Clearly, these were the most powerful beings the planet had to offer. The military forces of the different nations were significant as a whole, but the warring and the fighting proved that there would never be a way for the entire planet to mobilize into anything other than a last-minute defensive force. No, the Justice League would be the focal point of her investigation. And what better way to investigate an organization than by being a member of it?

She had betrayed them from the start.

Ever the obedient servant of Thanagar, she played her role to a "T". She gathered information about their strengths and weaknesses. She made her covert reports. She observed and analyzed. She wasn't even that surprised when she found herself befriending them, as she had trained her mind to adopt their virtues and their ways of living..

What she hadn't considered… and what she hadn't reported to her home world… was that she was actually starting to _believe_ in their ways. For Thanagarians, the concepts of peace and love and freedom and equality were very different than they were for the people of Earth. Those qualities existed, but to different degrees and in different amounts. As she watched the rising of The Justice League into a service for Earth, she began to realize that she was part of an organization that was unifying an entire planet. She was one of the beings that would protect them and guide them. She understood that the balance of those qualities, while not right from a Thanagarian point of view, were perfectly suited for Earth. And she began to feel something for Earth that she didn't think she'd ever feel so far away from home: Pride.

She was proud of serving them. She was proud to help them.

The transition of the Justice League to the Justice Lords was only natural to her. It was a taste of Thanagarian doctrine laced with Earthly values. And her pride swelled that much more, because she was now a leader… a ruler of a planet that she had grown to love. A planet that felt more like her own child than a world.

That was when her reports to Thanagar began to suffer. She slowly tainted her 'findings'. She falsified her data to make Earth look like an undesirable place. She didn't _really_ know why she was sent to that particular planet, but whatever the Thanagarian High Council had in mind, if she had the ability to keep them away, then her place in history was secure. She wouldn't have to live as a mere lieutenant in their army, no. She was a Queen on her new planet – the planet she would help form. Yet another betrayal.

But she hadn't been trained on the dangers of becoming a virtual god on her assignment. She was also not trained on how not to fall in love.

She feared the Kryptonian at first. The Martian was a visitor like herself. The Amazon was a pain in the ass. The red one and the creepy one were annoying. But John Stewart was the most underwhelming of them all. At least the red one had powers and that bat-man had abilities. All the Green Lantern had was his ring.

At first, she couldn't find anything redeeming about him at all. There had been other Green Lantern members from this planet, and although there were none near Thanagar, she had been briefed of the Lantern Corps' existence. So, she had an understanding of the method that the Guardians used to choose the ones that wielded the rings. Given that, then this John Stewart _must_ have something admirable… she just couldn't see it.

His mind wasn't what Hal Jordan's was. Now _that_ was a Green Lantern to consider. She'd eventually gotten her hands on reports on the others, and they had something special about them as well, it seemed. But Stewart? No, he was nothing more than a dead-from-the-neck-up military drone. If the others didn't seem so keen on keeping him around, she probably would have asked them why he was even part of the group.

But slowly, little by little she found a feeling growing inside her about that man. She couldn't point it out. She couldn't provide a single example of action or any phrase that he uttered that could sum up how her gut instinct was changing about him. But it was there. It wasn't displayed in single things, it was simply in _everything_ he did and said.. It was in the way he walked and his posture. It was in the way that his body was so completely devoted to his cause that his eyes actually _glowed_ with the power of the Green Lantern. His integrity. His determination. His loyalty and devotion. In those things, he was flawless. He didn't project the same kind of power that the blue one did. He didn't radiate any degree of importance that she saw. His presence didn't demand attention like the bat did. But she eventually realized that there wasn't a single flaw that she could find with him. His character was irreproachable. The more she studied him, the more she realized that he was a man among children on his home planet. She appreciated that.

And once she started to accept him as an equal, it bothered her that her heart sped up in his presence. It made her uneasy that his scent made her wings twitch. She grew irate when they bickered, not because he was butting heads with her, but because to her, it felt like foreplay, while to him, it clearly was not. His integrity and honor kept his mind clean of those lustful thoughts. That's how she read it, anyway. It was annoying to no end. It had been so long since she had been physical with a man – of any species. She could appreciate his body and what it could do for her. She had to find _some_ way of making him see her like that…

Then she made a choice. Once she realized how Earth would be forevermore her new home… once she started sending false reports back to Thanagar… once she made the decision to abandon her loyalty to her betrothed… she made John Stewart her prey. She had severed all ties with that old world and recreated herself. He would be a part of that, she was sure. All physical attraction aside, she found herself devoid without him. She found her heart racing when they bickered and she grew even giddier when she recognized that spark in his eyes as well. The lust grew stronger, but then again, so was this new feeling… this _other_ emotion. She had trouble understanding that she was falling in love with him.

But fall in love with him she did. And he fell for her as well. And their arguing and teasing proved to be the perfect aphrodisiac for both of them. The heat of their passion was famous and their all-night trysts were the stuff of legend on the watchtower. He _claimed_ that it was inappropriate to be so "inconsiderately vocal" and it could be offensive to their colleagues, but he never offered any apologies for their performances. And she never blushed at anybody's remarks the next day.

Flash's death seemed to change all that. John was never the same.

Shayera felt the pain from many directions. Not only did she miss Wally – a person that she had learned to love as a little brother – but John's pain became her own. He grew colder by the day, more distant. She tried to comfort him the best she knew how, but it seemed that Thanagarian comfort didn't create the same effect.

So in turn, despite her best efforts, she found herself growing colder as well. Their relationship became one of convenience. They slept together. They went on dates. They argued. But that spark was never there anymore. She tried to recapture it, but it eluded her more and more. Eventually, she stopped trying.

She found solace in the job. She found comfort in cultivating her new world. Her happiness bloomed as the streets of Earth's cities emptied of trash – both human and otherwise. When the news reports brought fewer scenes of bodies and destruction, she reveled in the comfort of a job well-done. The planet slowly became her source of joy. John Stewart slowly became nothing but a hard body to screw.

She tried to care, but it seemed pointless. The only thing that had any meaning any more was the job. She attacked it with unparalleled ferocity. She dealt her swift hand of justice without mercy. And she found that, in the heat of battle, she just couldn't turn 'off'. It was only _after_ the battle, when her adrenaline had subsided, when her emotions were drained, that she realized the void in her life. And then she realized that the job wasn't even a source of joy any more, it was an obsession.

She searched for something to care for – anything. She couldn't rediscover her feelings for John. She couldn't muster up her sense of loyalty for Thanagar. She tried to recapture what it felt like when the people of earth adored her, but when she looked into their faces, all she saw was fear and loathing. She had become a shadow of who she used to be.

If she was in battle, she was irrationally aggressive. If she wasn't in a fight, she was emotionally unstable and timid. She had no purpose and she had no cause. At least she still had her mace.

But not anymore. Her strength, her mental abilities and even her weapon were all stripped from her.

She should have been outraged. She should have been seething and cursing and demanding revenge. She knew that it was Batman that must have done it, and she considered making him the target of her wrath. But none of that happened.

She sat on the edge of her bed in her cell – her new home, she considered. She was being repaid for countless levels of lies, betrayals and inexplicable pride. She had lied to the people of Earth and her Justice League and Justice Lord colleagues to gain their trust. She had betrayed that trust by spying on them for some damn fool mission that she didn't even understand. She had betrayed Thanagar, her real home by abandoning that mission, despite her vows as an officer. She had betrayed her fiancé and forsaken him. She had grown proud of power that she stole but hadn't earned. Her physical strength and mental capabilities weren't something that she developed – they were naturally Thanagarian, yet she toted them like they were something for the little people of Earth to worship. She grew proud of her feats of so-called heroism, yet there were others less capable than her that had done much, much more.

She sat with her elbows on her knees and her fists against her mouth, her posture displaying how hollow she felt inside. She didn't have anything in her life to cling to now. No home world, no lover, no mission, no authority, no loyalty… nothing.

Without her strength, even her wings were useless. She tried to flex and flap them, but she couldn't even lift herself off the ground. Perhaps they could be used to glide, but even that was doubtful. Without them she felt like half her body was missing. She might as well have been blinded.

Without the stoutness of her Thanagarian mind, she wouldn't be able to power up her mace - if she somehow got it back. Her thoughts were now on display to anybody with a hint of telepathic powers. Her emotions were running riot through her mind and her heart and her soul. She was a being without focus or love. She was numb, tired, alone and vacant.

Get angry? What's the point?

* * *

John thought he had it all..

He had a mission in his life. He had comrades devoted to the same causes he was. He had friends. He had the love of an incredible woman – so what if that she came from another planet? His peace of mind grew by the day because he knew that his life had purpose and meaning. He was making a difference in his world – in many worlds.

Yes, John had it all.

Wally's murder took it all away.

John had lost comrades in arms before. On the battlefield in his camouflage or in space in his black and green uniform… either way it was never easy to accept. But as he had been told about death and loss: you don't have to like it, but you do have to accept it. It's a part of life.

But Wally's murder he couldn't accept. The kid wasn't as young as others John had seen killed in action. He wasn't as talented or clever or professional. But Wally was Wally. There wasn't another person like him on this world or the countless others that John had visited or had watch over. Wally was special. And the ruthless and infamous way that he had been murdered was something that couldn't be simply 'accepted'.

Those rules… those codes that he had devoted his life to… those outlined ramblings of guidelines that were supposed to help him dole out justice and save the lives of the innocent masses… they didn't save Wally. John had been told that the rules and codes saved lives, but he couldn't remember many times when he knew undoubtedly that they had. It was _his_ _enforcement _of the rules that had.

The sour taste of Wally's death drew out the cynic in him. The tired Generals that had learned their trade three wars ago… did they have any idea what it's like to fight on the front lines of today's wars? His Lantern training made him a one-man army. His judgment, once so clean cut and crystal clear, couldn't decide which of the cold rules to use any more. Were any of them any good? Did they ever really save anybody? What the hell were they even for?

With each passing day after President Luthor's final justice, John's mind spiraled more and more into questioning everything that he had ever believed in. Truth and Justice had always been so easy for him to see… so easy for him to uphold. Their very concepts became something he questioned.

Then he came upon a concept that nobody had ever tried to teach him: Justice isn't something to uphold, it's something to enforce.

Justice wasn't a force of nature. Balance was a force of nature, justice was a man-made concept of moral balance, and being man-made, then its application must also be man-made. To let Justice occur naturally, John realized, would be like trying to let a tree build itself into a log cabin. No, it was man-kind that had to demand Justice, because if human nature were allowed to rule, then lust and greed and betrayal would eventually poison societies worldwide.

John had been second only to Clark in bringing about the changes in the Justice League. He was the one that actually came up with the name Justice Lords. His favorite mantra from the Marine Corps was "Power perceived is power achieved." When people would view the members of the Justice League as the most powerful organization on earth, then the League would have the power in the people's hearts and minds. The League would 'lord over the criminal class and weed them out', John had said. Clark liked that word and the name was changed.

There was no middle ground in his mind after that – if there ever really was any to begin with. The laws _must be followed_ even if they didn't seem to make sense at the time. The only reason they existed was because somebody entrusted with power thought that they did make sense once, and that was reason enough. If that logic became outdated or grew to be obsolete, then it was the duty of those in power to recognize that and take the appropriate actions to remove or alter those laws. The _people_ were _not_ supposed to simply ignore a law because it was inconvenient. That's how crimes, fights, murders, rapes, riots and wars were started.

As the Lords' dominance over earth solidified, John eventually found within himself a small hole that seemed to never get filled. Deep down he had hoped that their new ways and new ideas would provide the sense of stability and security to the whole planet – to his little childhood neighborhood. He truly did have a sense of peace knowing that, while he and his five colleagues stood watch, wars would never break out and the people of earth could count on their protection. So why didn't he see the same contentment and admiration in their eyes when he looked?

He walked the streets of his home town and people quickly ducked out of his way. They didn't shake his hand anymore. They didn't point him out to their children. They would divert their gaze towards the cracked sidewalk as he tried to simply nod and say 'hello'. He had seen privates behave like this when generals walked by, the obligatory salute notwithstanding. So for a while, he took it as almost a sign of respect that the people had for him and his colleagues.

But he wasn't sure. Part of him didn't know what to make of it. Then, one day in Chicago , he caught a glimpse of a young man glaring at him. It took John a second to realize that this punk was actually trying to intimidate him with his look. He turned towards the little cuss and was about to take a menacing step forward when he realized that the kid had on a red t-shirt with a familiar white circle and yellow bolt of lightning.

It made John thinkg of his lost friend.

John didn't see what happened to the young man. He was too caught up in the sudden thought running through his head, despite how absurd it was.

Maybe… just maybe… they didn't see him as a good guy anymore. Maybe they saw him as another oppressor, just like President Luthor had been. Maybe he and his Justice Lords comrades had become everything that they had vowed to fight against. He heard Wally's voice in his head.

That annoying realization never went away. His logic and his sense of duty and honor fought the feeling, declaring that the Justice Lords were doing what they did because it was for the peoples' own good. But his lack of faith in the rules and guidelines and codes of the Marines and the Lantern Corps compounded the argument. Whose version of Justice were they enforcing?

From that day on, John felt like a computer without a program. So, like a computer without a program, he did nothing but what he was told. He had no guide, he had no internal, moral compass. He had no purpose.

Once again, he found it just wasn't enough. The hole was getting bigger.

In his cell in the Batcave, he sat and debated in his own mind the logic and reason of it all. His ring had been taken from him, but even if it hadn't, it was dead and useless. That little fact meant that the Guardians would sense something was wrong and send another Lantern to investigate. It was only a matter of time before he would be judged. He truly didn't know what the verdict would be. Had he been asked a year ago, he would have said that The Justice Lords were the best thing to ever happen to the planet Earth. Now he wasn't so sure. Would his actions and his involvement be viewed favorably, or as criminal?

He really didn't know what was going to happen.

It was only a matter of time.

* * *

**Author's Notes:  
I know... I know... I haven't updated since APRIL '08. Pretty horrendous of me and I've been punished for it appropriately. I'll say "sorry" but for those that have little patience, I'm sure it won't do any good. But I've said it before and I'll say it again... I WILL FINISH this story. I've had this chapter and the next one written for a while. But I wanted to have MANY written and waiting so I could post every week or two without big gaps. One never knows when inspiration will waiver...**

**Well, I'm finally taking the plunge and posting this chapter... just to let anybody that reads know that I'm not dead and I do intend to finish this story.**


	3. Chapter 3: Foundation

**Disclaimer: No profit is gained by this fiction. I do not own these characters. I just really, really like stories about them!**

**As always, thanks goes out to Kipling-Nori & GeekyBMWWFan – my Betas and sounding boards.**

**Special thanks goes out to Hepburn, who helped out with this chapter a lot. Her suggestions and critiques were invaluable! You rock!**

* * *

Chapter 3: Foundation

Bruce Wayne sat in his own Batcave, the familiar stranger within arm's reach. Both men, dressed in casual workout attire, were showing signs of the physical and mental fatigue from their most recent battle – against each other as well as their respective comrades. But they had prepared their minds for the momentous task at hand. They had much to discuss.

Wayne locked his eyes on his visiting counterpart. The fact that he just agreed to the damnedest scheme he'd ever heard of wasn't what was dominating his mind. What _was_ distracting him was trying to remember that the man standing in front of him had every mental capacity that _he_ had, and he could never take things for granted. After a long pause, Bruce spoke.

"You already know what I'm thinking, don't you?"

"You're wondering," the visitor responded, "how you can trust me and how… if something goes wrong… you can form a 'Plan B' that I won't predict."

Bruce silently conceded the accuracy by simply swiveling in his chair and continuing to ponder.

"For all you know," the guest continued, "I could have helped you defeat the Justice Lords because it would have made it easier for me to take over my world with them out of the way."

Bruce continued to calculate and consider while the other talked.

"I could be sending you into a trap again."

The words didn't distract him… then again, the speaker already knew that. Still, he kept talking.

"And there are only a handful of people that you trust that could come up with something that I wouldn't have thought of already."

There was a pause while Bruce's mind drew the conclusion that his counterpart had also come upon as he was formulating this whole plot.

"You knew I'd have my reservations," Bruce announced when he finally reached his epiphany. "So, before you even came here, you were prepared to agree to any terms that I set."

"Yes."

The logic and the counter logic were staggering – even for the World's Greatest Detective. Like he was told not twenty-four hours ago – this visitor had calculated anything that he'd ever come up with. Then, remembering that same conversation they had during his short stay, his mind caught upon an idea that, while predictable in concept, the other Batman would never have been able to plan for entirely…

"Then this is what I want," he said with certainty and a touch of satisfaction. "Alfred will be in on this whole thing in every detail. If _he's_ not happy about something, _I'm_ not happy about it either."

"I agree. In fact, I expected you would want that, so I had no reservation intruding on the two of you together upstairs."

The quick compliance wasn't a surprise, but Bruce still took a second to study the other man.

"_AND_," he added strongly, taking a long pause for affect. "_FLASH_ will be in on it as well."

The other man's face showed subtle traces of confusion and concentration. Subtle… but for a man skilled at hiding his emotions, it was blaringly obvious.

"That's not debatable," Bruce declared.

The visitor's eyes darted for a moment as he deciphered the situation. Finally, convinced, his eyebrows raised, he drew in a deep breath through is nose and nodded consent.

"I guess that would be the best solution, wouldn't it? I was about to ask you if you really trust him, but clearly you do."

"Yes, I do. He doesn't know that Bruce Wayne is Batman, and he's got a lot of growing up to do. But our Flash hasn't even _begun_ to understand the full potential of his powers. In that sense… his inexperience and his naiveté… his innocence… he is very powerful and substantial. He'll err with caution. And he's a good man."

The other Bruce's head sank just a little as he allowed a moment to remember the Flash that he once knew.

"Alright. Anything else?"

"Not at the moment. Right now, we're going to work on ways to make sure Alfred and Flash can be brought in on this and understand what we're trying to do."

The other man nodded and prepared for business.

"We've got work to do."

* * *

"How in _world_ am I going to tell the two of you apart?" Alfred asked with unhidden exasperation.

As if being Batman's (let alone Bruce Wayne's) caretaker wasn't enough, the poor Englishman now had to deal with the concept of alternate universes, trans-dimensional teleportation, life swapping, and two very stubborn personalities.

It was morning and he had routinely put the kettle on for his day's first tea when both men walked into the kitchen and broke the news of their plans. Dressed in casual clothing, he had trouble knowing which one to address… and which one to trust.

"Now, Alfred," one of them started, "you understand that this is on a need-to-know basis. We need you to know about all of this because we'll need your help – not only to make this work, but to keep it a secret."

"Of course… sir," the older man replied, though he was still unsure who was who.

"I am this world's Batman… _your_ Bruce Wayne," the same Bruce continued. "In all our correspondence, whenever it's necessary to make a distinction, anything to do with _the other_ world will be highlighted with Alpha… be it the symbol when writing or when spoken. Everything about _this_ world will be annotated with Beta."

"Very good, sir. But that still doesn't tell me…"

The butler paused when both men put their right hands on the table in exactly the same fashion. Both hands sported a familiar silver ring on the middle finger with the Wayne family crest. After a moment, he noticed the Greek symbols for alpha and beta cleverly hidden amongst the engraved designs. Had he not suspected a difference, he wouldn't have even noticed. They must have crafted them during the night, the old butler figured, while they were planning and plotting and Lord knows what else.

"Ah, ingenious! And what about when you are in uniform, sir?"

"Well, keep in mind," Alpha Bruce explained, "that after tomorrow, I will be here and he will be in my world… for days, if not weeks at a time. You've seen the differences in our Batman uniforms, so that should be obvious. But it will be very rare for both of us to be in the same place at the same time."

"I see," Alfred allowed, although his whole attitude was laced with uncertainty. "And if I need… _other_ means of identification?"

"X-rays" they answered in unison, while one produced an envelope with skeletal pictures of both men, clearly marked with alphas and betas for identification.

Alfred sat in quiet wonderment at the kitchen table while the exposures were laid out neatly for his review by the 'twins' standing across from him.

"Physically, we were born identical, but we've been in different battles and daily situations. Here you can see that there is evidence on my right tibia from a fracture I suffered, while his is clear. There are other things as well, so this is just an example."

The three discussed some basic concepts and answered some primary questions for the older man, simply for clarity's sake. First and foremost, in a brief recounting of their conversation in the Batcave the night before, they explained their reasons for the charade. They also briefly discussed the short, intermediate and long-term goals. Alfred listened as the two men talked in a virtual tag-team, each finishing the other's sentences. He had to focus just as hard to get over the fact that there were two, virtually identical Bruce Waynes in his kitchen, as he did to absorb the whole idea of them trading places. The whole scene forced him to consider that he'd need an entire pot of tea, rather than just a cup.

They explained that they would spend a considerable amount of time recapping the major points of their lives to discover any significant differences. They would talk about the situations of criminals in their respective worlds, and the dynamics of the Justice League vs. the Justice Lords. They would give topical histories to each other, although either Batman could find detailed files on his counterpart's computers. Basically, the next thirty-six hours would be a crash-course in "Your Doppelganger Life 101".

They told Alfred of their goals to keep the Justice League on the path of righteousness, while simultaneously trying to return the members of the Justice Lords to grace and reestablish their role of trustworthy watchmen in their world. They talked about establishing a secure information link between the two dimensions that could only be used for brief moments each day in order to exchange progress, obstacles and other goings on for their plans.

As they explained all this, they broke off into many conversations between themselves, leaving Alfred to wonder what in Heaven's name they were talking about. After the fifth such occurrence, he finally got up and made his well-earned cup of Earl Grey.

"Lord love a duck!" Alfred muttered to himself as he poured. "_Two_ of them!"

* * *

"Let's start with the big one," Beta suggested, sitting comfortably in his den. "When and where do you think your organization started go…"

"Go ahead, say it. I've already recognized it for what it is…" Alpha demanded with a touch of shame. "Where did we go wrong?"

Bruce Beta nodded.

"Obviously there wasn't just one thing that_ led_ to it, but there _was_ one thing that _triggered_ it: Our Flash was killed. President Luthor had fabricated charges of treason, conspiracy and sedition against him, and declared that all the offences warranted the death penalty in times of war. Technically, he was the only one that had decided that the United States _was_ at war, so when…"

"At war with whom?" Beta interrupted.

"With us. With metas."

Bruce Alpha explained how Lex Luthor had soap boxed during his Presidential campaign with promises to unite the nation against terrorist forces, all the while, never actually mentioning the Justice Lords (still known at the time as the Justice League) as one of those forces, but they were alluded to as one. He and his high-paid speech writers cleverly catered to the people's need for "change" and "progress" while also offering to restore the country's integrity and standing in the global community. Once in office, he and his lackeys found ways to focus every negative world-wide occurrence on the heroes, until the penultimate time when he executed the captive _'traitor against the nation'_ Flash as an example.

"By that time, we were already headed towards a war of sorts, it was just Luthor that became the embodiment of our conflict. About a year before that time, we had decided that we hadn't been proactive enough in the global community at stopping crime and violence. We started becoming more and more… insistent. It had caused some internal tensions as well as clashes with some of the World Leaders and their governments… even other heroes."

"Were these changes gradual?"

"Yes, at first," he admitted before continuing with some difficulty. "In retrospect, it's easy to see, now, how Flash was usually the voice of reason, keeping us from making changes that were too radical, too… _didactic._ After he…" he paused for a deep breath, "after he was murdered, it was just too easy for us to fall into a downward spiral. We changed our name, we changed our look. We changed our approach. We modified the Watchtower and our operations. We deviated from our true path - the _right_ path that your Justice League is on - and became what we had tried to avoid ever since…"

He stopped once again for a tense and difficult pause, suppressing a shameful scowl as his eyes drifted to unseen points a thousand miles away.

"Ever since what?" Batman Beta prompted.

After yet another cleansing breath, Bruce Wayne Alpha began to tell of his own personal hell.

He told his counterpart about the Achilles Device. He talked about how it had stripped Superman of his powers. He talked about how he gained his own powers and what subsequently happened in their lives, as well as how his actions affected the others' lives.

He talked about his slow descent into a power-hungry delusion. He outlined the drug-like affects on his body and mind, how he felt great and invincible. He told about the struggles and the battles he fought against the others in the group. He talked about everything, although he started out keeping it clinical and factual, as if he were discussing a case about someone else. But as he spoke, his voice started to take on a more sorrowful tone. He tried to remain rigid, but the flood gates were cracked open, and they crept open a little more, and little more as he spoke. Eventually, he forced himself to accept the situation; he had to tell everything, clinical or otherwise, if only to make sure his new accomplice would be well-informed. And he did, finally letting his shame and anger show through. His voice rose and fell, it quivered and grew quiet. His eyes twitched and his teeth clenched with each soul-filled word. He finally allowed himself, after all that time, to say out loud the things he refused to let himself think. And all the while, he marveled at how it finally felt like a phenomenal weight lifted from his shoulders to get it out of his system in unfiltered, unedited totality.

His counterpart sat in amazement to hear the tale. He watched every facial expression, every body movement as he heard about the other Batman and how he tried to 'save the world' and how he wound up failing miserably. He learned about how that world's Batman believed that he had become a better man because of his ordeal.

And he understood.

And he could relate.

He also heard about how the lessons learned were more than a personal trial for that Batman, but also for the rest of the heroes as well – for he had almost single-handedly broken the League. In all that the empowered Batman had done wrong, he had actually accomplished much, much more than anybody would have guessed at the time. It was the success stories of his actions that served as justifications for the Justice Lords to continue on with their dominance. His ability to affect change by being aggressively proactive was the motivation for the Lords to proceed with (what they considered) _controlled_ aggression. They thought that the concept was sound, even though his method was madness… and they believed that they had devised a better way. Batman's empowerment was simply the first raping of the values and true ideals that the League had held. Flash's murder made it an easy slide down the path to becoming the Justice Lords.

When all had been said, Batman Beta was virtually speechless. He tried mightily to remain neutral – an outsider – and approach the entire situation dispassionately, as a problem that needed fixing. But to hear the story in his own voice, told with words that he himself would have used had he found himself in that world… he couldn't help but to be moved… maybe even a bit afraid.

After a thick pause, Beta started clinically on some factual observations – if only to avoid the emotional aspects for a while.

"I'd like to discuss some things that you mentioned. The teleporters, for one. Where did you get the technology for that?"

"Factually," Alpha answered, somewhat relieved that the other man kept it impersonal for the moment, "you can look up the Technical Specs of all our equipment and all the Incident Reports you like on the computers. The passwords are the same. There isn't much to discuss besides what's been documented, really. I'm sure you'll be able to use that information as needed."

With that moment to recompose himself, Bruce Alpha was able to right his mind better for the more private questions that were sure to come. He didn't have long to wait.

"What about personally? Tell me about the things that _aren't _in the Incident Reports. When did everybody learn everybody else's identity? How did that affect the relationships within the group? And what kind of interactions have you observed from the people in our organization that differ from people in yours? And… Clark's father is dead in your world?"

"Yes, he is. I used to consider that a common point between he and I. After all, my… _our_ fathers are dead as well. In short, I had simply filed his pain from that loss as a driving force in his personality. That is, until I found you and your Justice League. Knowing that this world's Jonathon Kent is still alive seems more relevant now."

The Alpha Batman knew that it would eventually turn to the internal relationships within the Lords organization. He had been watching the League's interaction very closely during their recent encounter… trying very hard to deduce the way each member felt for each other. The presence of a living Flash went first without saying. A close second behind that was the obvious lack of intimacy between the League Batman and Wonder Woman as well as the League Green Lantern and Hawkgirl. Once Batman Alpha noticed this, he was quickly able to recognize that there was still a lot of attraction and a ridiculous amount of sexual tension there.

"Over all, The Justice Lords' dynamics made our internal relationships much more open in many ways, but it also allowed us to distance ourselves from each other. Looking back now, it seems that there were many levels of subconscious trust and mistrust at play."

"For example?"

"Our Green Lantern and Hawkgirl are… _intimate_ with each other. However, their relationship is also one of mutual independence. In hind sight, when we achieved that much power that quickly, we were all watching our own backs without even realizing it. Even though John and Shayera are involved, neither one of them would have the slightest hesitation at destroying the other, should the situation call for it."

"Interesting," Beta observed.

Alpha was surprised that a follow up question wasn't immediately asked. He had just begun to formulate a way to change to another topic before he was asked about his own relationships. He didn't make it.

"And what about you and Diana?"

The two Bruces locked eyes, one knowing he'd been caught, one knowing he'd caught the other.

He was going to deny that there was anything between him and Diana – simply out of reflex. He had to catch himself and remember that he'd never get away with that lie. He also had to make an effort to remember that it would be better off for everybody if he was as honest and forthright as possible. Both worlds depended on it.

"We are intimate as well."

He was expecting a judgmental reaction from his League opposite. Instead, he found the other man in deep introspection for the briefest of moments.

"We _will_ talk about that in detail… later," Beta finally announced, though it didn't make either man very comfortable. "What else?"

The Lords' Batman forced himself to relax and started from the top down.

His Alfred was dead. It was difficult to reestablish their old relationship after the incident with the Achilles Device. The two worked together, professionally, but the bond they once shared was permanently damaged. By the time President Luthor was assassinated, Alfred was away, 'enjoying' his retirement.

The two had hardly spoken to each other for five months after that, then, tragically, Alfred Pennyworth had died in a fire at an opera house in London. Star Sapphire had been the cause of that. Seeing Batman's rage, Superman 'accidentally' burned a hole through her head while attempting his heat-vision lobotomy. She lived out her few remaining days as a drooling vegetable.

Alpha Bruce and his son, Dick Grayson had reconciled very quickly after the Achilles Device incident. Their relationship was never 'warm' as the case may be, but Dick was at the manor much more frequently and Nightwing was seen in Gotham on more than a few occasions. In retrospect, it would seem that Alfred may have stayed at the manor as long as he did because of Dick's easy ability to repair tensions between him and Bruce.

When the change was made from Justice League to Justice Lords, Dick had become very eager to join and help the cause. Later, it was discovered that he did so in an attempt to affect change from the inside of the organization, wanting to bring the group 'back from the abyss' as he had been heard to say. Once that truth was known, he was arrested on charges of conspiracy, though it silently broke everybody's heart. But, an example had to be made. He escaped prison within hours and hadn't been seen or heard from since. Not even his former fiancé, Barbara Gordon knew anything about him.

Barbara was steadily climbing the ranks of the Blüdhaven PD as an analyst despite her physical limitations. She had been earmarked by the department for a fast track to the Commissioner's office until she started receiving endorsements from the Justice Lords… then her career took a sudden stall. Her attitude towards police work in general had become very cynical, and although she would adhere to the new 'laws' as they were laid out, she kept a fiery spirit and protested every injustice she could – from the criminals or the Lords.

Jim Gordon had retired earlier than expected. He had to move away from his Gotham home of forty years because his advocacy of Batman had become the reason for many late-night drive-by shootings at his home once the _League_ became the _Lords_. Bruce was able to track him down in a quiet town in the Colorado Rockies, living under an assumed name, but he never bothered him there.

As far as the criminals… many, many of Batman's so-called Rogue's Gallery had been "subdued" by Superman's heat vision – not to mention other well-known adversaries. The two agreed that the facts of the situation could be easily covered by reading Incident Reports, but the few key notes were that Grodd, Brainiac and The Ultra Humanite were still unaccounted for on Earth Alpha, and Darkseid hadn't been a consideration in years. These, both men decided, would be the _first_ ones to investigate regarding the cryptic message sent between dimensions as they were the most likely ones to have the technology to do so.

"We've got our work cut out for us," Batman Beta summed up. "What did you have in mind about handling your colleagues?"

"What do _you_ have in mind?"

He paused briefly before summing up the delicate situation in the simplest terms possible with the most cavalier attitude he could muster.

"First, I'm going to have to get them to admit that they were wrong. Stripping them of their powers will force some humility into their heads… now I'm going to have to make sure they understand that it was those same powers that gave them the path they followed."

Bruce Alpha nodded in agreement. His eyes showed the kind of understanding that only comes from experience.

"Once I can get that accomplished, I'm going to have to cultivate their desire to make amends."

"That part shouldn't be too difficult," Alpha commented. "They all still have the strong core beliefs that your team has. They're all good people… heroes, really, when it comes down to it. Getting their pride out of the way will be key. I think another big challenge will be trying to get them to _want_ to work together and to learn how to _serve_ again, rather than _reign._ What do you have in mind for that?"

"A lot of help from their roots," Beta answered thoughtfully then his face rose into a familiar smirk. "After that…Boot camp."

* * *

"Flash. Come in."

Wally West bolted upright in his recliner, dropping the remote control and almost spilling his poofy cheesy curls.

_Was that Batman? Calling ME?_

"Uh… Flash here… go ahead."

"Meet me at the north end of the Gotham docks in twenty minutes. Batman out."

It took Wally a full ninety seconds to contemplate what just happened: Batman called for him.

_Does he need help? Naw. There wasn't anything urgent in his voice._

_What in the world would that man need ME for?_

A few more seconds of pondering and Wally finally got his mind around the situation. Whatever it was, he shouldn't argue, shouldn't think too much, and for Pete's sake… he shouldn't be late!

* * *

He was in his famous red costume in seconds and streaking through the night along the interstate. He could be in Gotham in ten minutes and maybe impress the creepy old man with some unexpected punctuality. Then again, he might want to stop for a snack and fashionably be a few seconds late. Oh, those tough decisions of the young superhero life!

The north docks were dark and secluded, long since shut down for repairs that never came to fruition. There was a cooling mist drifting in from the water's edge and the occasional clanging of marker buoys in the channel floated across the hazy darkness. In the distance a ghostly foghorn droned from points unknown. It didn't surprise Flash at all that Batman would want to meet there – it was the perfect atmosphere to complete the brooding. Zipping in with almost a full minute to spare, Flash took the last bites of his burrito, slowed to a more human-like walking pace and strolled around, looking for his colleague.

"Over here."

Flash spun around, half startled out of his gourd, despite the fact that he had mentally prepared himself for an abrupt greeting from The Dark Knight. It didn't help that the voice came from a shadowy corner that Flash thought he had thoroughly checked out just seconds before.

"Jeez! I wish you wouldn't DO that! I was in the middle of chewing, I coulda choked!"

"You'll get over it."

Batman only took a few precious steps from the total blackness into the gray shadows – just enough to be seen, but not much more. He stood tall and menacing, the slight shimmer off his white eye lenses were the only thing Flash could really focus on. For a few dragging seconds, neither man spoke. It was too long for Flash's patience.

"So… whadaya need?"

"Your help."

Flash swallowed, but hid his surprise well. This kind of situation wasn't common – for Batman to ask for help. The fact that Flash was the one he was asking was completely unprecedented. Still, the young man did his best to hide his discomfort and appear casual about it.

"Uh… sure. What can I do for you?"

"I need to show you something in the Batcave."

"The… the Batca-" Flash stammered.

"Yes," Batman interrupted quickly, "the Batcave. I have a situation and you are the only one that can know about it."

Flash's innards struggled with the rush of adrenaline that usually comes with a sudden sense of importance and flattery. Had he been Wally at the moment, he would have been a little less comical. But since he had on the red, he had a reputation to uphold.

"Something that only the Fastest Man Alive can do for you, eh? Well, since it's _you_ Bats… then I'm your man! What can Flash do to make your day?"

Batman's eye lenses narrowed dangerously, making the cockiness drain out of the younger hero.

"Put this on."

With that, something soft and black hit Flash in the face. It fell into his hands and he turned it over for inspection. It looked like a small pillow case.

Batman stormed out of one set of shadows and into another where his legendary vehicle was waiting in perfect camouflage. Flash followed closely, still studying the sack.

"Put this on _what?_" he asked after a few stumped seconds.

"Your _head_" Batman replied with a touch of 'what else?' in his voice.

It took a moment, but Flash finally caught on – the Batcave's location is a _secret_. The speedster sighed with resignation and disappointment as his ego deflated just a little.

"I could just keep my eyes shut, y'know."

"No," came the stern answer as the vehicle's cockpit opened. "And don't bother suggesting knock-out gas either. I know that your system will metabolize it within seconds."

Flash's head sank. Just when he thought that the time had finally come to be accepted and trusted by this dark and sometimes terrifying man, he found himself figuratively back at 'the children's table' again. He climbed into the passenger's seat, buckled in and slid the sack over his head.

"Wake me when we get there," he joked, crossing his arms and leaning back as the engines roared to life.

Maybe the extra noise played tricks in Flash's ears, but he could have _sworn_ that he heard a stifled chuckle.

* * *

The drive wasn't as long as Flash expected. The design of the car was excellent for dampening the external noise, so it was difficult to tell that they were actually in the cave until the vehicle glided to a gentle stop and the engines whined down. When he heard the whooshing of the cockpit opening again, he reached for the bag on his head.

"Can I take this-"

"Yes."

Flash undid his safety harness, climbed out of the car, tossed the sack on the seat and spun around to find himself nose-to-nose with _another Batman._

"Holy…!"

The costume was unmistakable: it was the Justice Lords Batman. And although he was the one that helped them in their battle against the others, his unexpected presence wasn't necessarily a good thing. Flash's eyes twitched in every direction to take in as thorough of an assessment of his situation as he could. He didn't dare move until he was sure he had the upper hand – and he knew from too much experience that getting the upper hand on Batman – _any_ Batman - was _not_ easy.

He jerked his head to his right, then blazed off to the left. After a few precious steps, when he realized that he had taken the other man by surprise and _wasn't_ in some kind of eastern-origin death grip, he decided he needed a plan. He didn't know the layout of the cave, but it was easy enough to navigate into hidden crags and corners on the fly. He had just spotted the best place to hide until he figured out his next move when he heard Batman's voice.

"It's OK. He's not here to fight."

"Which one of you said that?!" Flash called out from some dark corner.

The two dark heroes ambled up to one another and stood side-by-side to show Flash that it wasn't a trap, it wasn't a trick and it wasn't a fight.

"Flash," the Justice League Batman called out, holding up his hand for identification. "Get out here now! We don't have time for this."

Slowly, tentatively, Flash leaned out of his hiding spot and observed the two men as best he could. Still wary, he zipped into a more well-lit part of the cave, but still a good distance from the others.

"Alright," he started with uncertainty. "I give up… what's going on? Why did you bring me here and what the _hell_ is _he_ doing here?!"

"_He's_ the reason I brought you here," Batman replied, while the visitor remained silent and still. "There's a situation that we have to take care of. We need your help."

"You do, huh? I'm listening."

Batman took a breath and huffed it back out in a frustrated sigh. He shook his head a little and then strutted over towards the main computers.

"Sit down!" he commanded with his coldest voice. "It's a long story and our time is short."

When the other Batman sat down comfortably, Flash finally made his way to the only other chair in the area. Like a cat in a roomful of sleeping dogs, he lowered himself into the seat and listened to the two men as the situation was laid out for him.

* * *

Some time later…

"I want to talk to him alone," the League Batman said to the other with out looking at him directly.

Silently, the visitor stood and made his way towards a stairwell that wound its way up and around within the walls of the cave. Batman brought up the security feed from the mansion above to show that the visitor had, in fact, exited the cave completely before he turned to face Flash.

"Do you _trust_ that guy?" Flash started.

"Not entirely. That's one of the biggest reasons why you're here."

Batman paused to allow that notion to sink into the young mind. After a measured moment, he continued.

"The magnitude of this mission cannot be overstated. Nobody can know about this except you and another colleague that helps me in my personal life. Keep it that way."

Typical Batman frankness. Simple, solid sentences that left little room for misinterpretation, although gave precious little in the way of facts or detail.

Flash took the opportunity to contemplate the news while his host turned towards a computer console and began typing.

"Why me?" the younger man asked somewhat weakly.

Batman stopped typing and cocked his head in Flash's general direction.

"Because I know you and he doesn't."

The typing resumed.

Flash's gaze lowered to an unfocused point in space. He drew a deep breath in through is lips and held it while his cleverness kicked into high gear.

"The others all have counterparts," he observed almost inaudibly, "and he _knows them._ You need me to keep an eye on him… to be… unpredictable."

Batman turned and studied his guest. The average person would have missed the slight degree of expression he wore… Flash had just impressed him with some quick intellect.

"That's right," he allowed, keeping his voice from showing any sign of appreciation.

He turned back towards the computers as some screens of information appeared for both men to review. Rolling his chair back away from the keyboard, he motioned towards the console with his gloved hand.

"The first thing I want you to do is type in a series of words that you will remember exactly."

Fighting the trace of confusion he felt, Flash leaned over and typed as ordered. After, Batman entered a few more commands, then reached for a pair of devices that were mounted in a docking system nearby. He handed one to Flash.

"These are trans-dimensional communication devices. My computers used your words as the foundation for encryptions. Nobody would be able to break the encryptions without knowing at least two of the words you typed… not even our friend upstairs."

Flash turned the device over in his hand. It could have easily passed as a typical cell phone.

"Can I make calls to anyone on this?"

"It's not a toy," was the cold reply.

"I know it's not a toy!" Flash protested. "But when I'm not in costume, I could hide its true purpose if it doubled as a phone, or…"

Flash shrugged and shook his head, thinking that maybe his idea was as childish as all his others.

Batman, however, was impressed for the second time in so many minutes.

"Actually, yes, it can be used as a phone. However, I would advise against doing that very often. There's no such thing as 'call waiting' when it comes to inter-dimensional communications. When I need to call you, I'll _need_ to call you. Plus the batteries wear down quickly."

Flash nodded silently and tucked the device into the top of his boot. He then took the charging cable that Batman offered and found a home for it in his other boot. He eyed the other hero's utility belt with a little bit of envy as he did.

"I want to stay in daily contact with you," Batman continued. "He's going to be patrolling Gotham and I have resources to keep an eye on him as he does. He's also going to be at the weekly meetings. In fact, he and I may switch back on occasion just to keep up-to-date on what's happening in our own worlds – so behave around him like you would around me."

Flash noticed that Batman didn't say 'treat him like you would treat me'. Nobody treats Batman like anything… they _behave_ around him. _He's_ the one that treats people as he wants.

"How will I know when it's you or him?"

Batman held out both hands in front of him with his ten fingers spread wide.

"Pick a finger."

Flash pointed to the ring finger on his left hand.

"When I see you," he explained, "I'll adjust my gloves starting with that finger."

Flash noticed how easily and naturally Batman demonstrated what he was describing. After another moment of deep thinking, Flash tightened his lips and bobbed his head in satisfaction.

"Well, then," he started lightly. "I guess there's nothing to it but to do it."

"Good. Get in the car."

The two men made their way briskly towards either side of the Batmobile. As the cockpit slid open Flash asked:

"Do I gotta put the bag on again?"

"Yes."

They climbed in and buckled up. Flash squeezed out an annoyed sigh as he readied the sack for donning. He procrastinated a little too long for the Dark Knight's patience.

"The bag, Flash," Batman warned. "Hawkgirl would have a hissy if you forced me to punch your lights out."

The youngster stifled a laugh and finagled the bag around the points of the lightning prongs on his hood. But before he pulled it down, his expression dropped into amazement and he slowly turned towards his colleague.

_Did Batman just make a joke?!_

The mighty engines roared to life and Flash caught the faintest hint of a smirk before the cloth covered his face.

* * *

**AN: At least I didn't wait 10 months to post this chapter! Chapter 4 is in the works. This story WILL get done. I'm half tempted to try to write the whole darn thing and then post chapters every couple weeks or so, but that kind of approach is what made Chapter 2 take so long. No, I'm gonna keep chugging along and release what I have when it's ready. I thank everybody for their patience. I also think that feedback will help steer the story somewhat, so I take reviews and personal emails into account as I move forward.**

**If you've read "The Powers That Be", then you probably already know that I put great effort into reading and replying to reviews. After all, I write for you, the reader. And as the engineers say: Feedback of "NO" is better than no feedback. My ego isn't a huge fan of flames, but I accept them. (Personally, when I want to provide negative or constructive points to a story, I do so in a private email, but that's just me!). So, if you're so inclined to post a review or send an email, expect something back. And don't feel bad if you what to flame me up – I do my darnedest to not get bitter about thoughtful posts.**

**If you post a review anonymously, then I'll try to respond at the end of the subsequent chapter… like this:**

**To Mischief:  
First, thanks for the kind words. I hope I can bring you more stuff that you enjoy as this story grinds along. As for the REAL Diana… you KNOW I can't give anything away… but if you've read my other stories, you'll probably realize that I'm pretty fond of WW as well as the BMWW pairing. Will she ever find out about it? Will there be a happy BMWW ending? Well… I'm not telling, but I will promise that it will be as intriguing a story as I can bring you! Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4: Act One, Scene One

**Disclaimer: No profit is gained by this fiction. I do not own these characters. I just really, really like stories about them!**

**As always, thanks goes out to Kipling-Nori & GeekyBMWWFan – my Betas and sounding boards. I recommend to anybody that loves good FanFic to read their stuff.**

* * *

Chapter 4: Act One, Scene One

"Good morning, sir," Alfred greeted Bruce as he set a silver serving tray of orange juice on the night stand.

Bruce looked around the familiar room with a groggy, confused expression as he stretched. It took a conscious effort to remember that he was in a different world with a different Alfred—an Alfred that was alive and still his trusted friend and confidant.

Blinking his eyes clear, he focused on the older man's face. The features were so familiar, yet different in countless, subtle ways. This Alfred was older than his own Alfred was when he last woke him up. But just like with his own butler towards the end, this Alfred's pleasant expression seemed… forced.

No, this wasn't his home. He was a visitor here.

The Englishman waited another moment, then marched over towards the tall windows and pulled the thick curtains open, flooding the room with midmorning sunshine.

"Bruce Wayne has a meeting," Alfred began mechanically as he made his way towards the closet, "with the board of directors of Schmidt Securities, Ltd today at one o'clock."

He retrieved a dark pinstripe three-piece and hung it on the valet chair and turned to find an appropriate pair of shoes as he continued.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, sir. It's primarily an update of the on-going merger talks. I should expect that you will have to simply nod and scowl a lot."

Bruce sat up and picked up the orange juice, his tired mind finally throwing off the fog of sleep and grasping the magnitude of his life again.

'_And so it begins,'_ he thought. _'Time to remember who I am, now.'_

It was a difficult time getting to sleep last night. This manor was cleaner, more comfortable and inviting. The sheets were crisp and the bed was actually made when he lay down. His own efforts at housekeeping had all but evaporated months ago…to the point where most rooms in his home hadn't seen footprints since he covered the furniture with white sheets and simply forgotten them.

Diana had helped out in the first few weeks after Alfred's difficult departure. They tried. They gave it an honest effort to approach it like a honeymoon of sorts… their own home, together, alone. A chance to build a life together. But those happy memories were cloudy and hard to believe. One by one, the rooms faded into obscurity. One by one the chairs and tables and suits of armor were covered and abandoned. The doors were closed and seldom opened—occasionally locked. The 'couple' spent their times in the neglected mansion simply eating and sleeping… often together, but over time, more and more often alone.

The grounds weren't so unlucky. Despite his green thumb, Alfred wasn't a gardener—at least not to the point that he could maintain the massive expanse of property on his own. No, a landscaper or a groundskeeper was called in often to keep the Manor's outward appearance. After all, the paparazzi were ever-present. It was easy to hire outside help to uphold the outside details—only the most trusted souls would be allowed into the private areas within the home. And with Alfred's retirement, there simply wasn't anybody left to trust.

So, as Bruce laid his head back into the deep, plush pillows for his first night's sleep in this semi-familiar bed, he had to make a conscious effort to remember that this wasn't a dream, that this wasn't nostalgia… and more importantly, this wasn't his house. It was somebody else's. He just had to pretend to be that somebody else for a while.

Fortunately, Bruce Wayne was Bruce Wayne in either dimension. That mask wouldn't be difficult to don. There may be some subtle details to absorb, but he had a universal 'plan b' that fit any occasion: when in doubt, smile. His gleaming white teeth and sparkling eyes could charm man and woman alike. His public persona was so versatile that he could rarely be found at a loss. Everybody knew he was clever and talented. They also knew he was a spoiled slacker that never even attempted to live up to a fraction of his potential. So, he could be intelligent and powerful if he wanted, but he could also play dumb and apathetic if the situation called for it. That portion of his new borrowed life would be the easiest, he was sure.

Functioning within the League, however, would be a challenge. The biggest ace up his sleeve was the fact that here, like he was once upon a time in his own world, Batman was a part-timer. To go for days without League contact wasn't unusual. He still had his cold, impassive demeanor and his legendary temper if he needed them. No, on a professional level, he wasn't expecting too much trouble.

Dealing with individuals within the League, however, would be tougher. He had discussed with his counterpart the similarities of how they kept their respective J'onns out of their heads. Provided he kept his mind sharp, the Martian shouldn't be an issue. As detail-oriented as Lantern was, he had never proven to be much of a detective. Keeping cold would keep John Stewart off his tracks. Shayera had shown a knack for noticing oddities and strange patterns—she'd be one to keep clear of, if at all possible. Those three were the easier ones to consider.

The others were downright dangerous.

The other Batman trusted Flash, so he had no choice but to do so as well. But it was a hard thing to accept. His own Wally had been so optimistic, naïve… young. This one wasn't much different on the surface. There was, however, a depth to him that suggested that he might have a little more backbone than the one that was killed. This Flash would, perhaps, stand up to him if it came right down to it. If he gave him a reason, this Flash would spill all the beans to the others and Batman Alpha would find himself in a world of trouble. It would be best to not give him that reason.

Clark was going to be a problem. With all his powers; the sight, the hearing… Heaven knows what else… it would be virtually impossible to tell if the man was looking at him or looking through him. And if he did scan him with those damned x-ray eyes, would he be astute enough to see the differences? To discover that he was a visitor? The only plan of action around Superman would be to _not_ be around Superman whenever possible.

And, of course, there was Diana.

Her hair, her outfit… she looked like his own Diana had just a few short years ago—years that felt like lifetimes. She wasn't physically intimate with her own Batman, although he had been informed that there was a neglected spark of chemistry between the two. He had asked several different times, in several different ways for his counterpart to describe their relationship in detail. After all, it was mandatory that he divulge all his personal secrets about his relationship with his own lover. But Beta Batman was in charge of that particular discussion, and he masterfully steered it away from anything that would betray what he truly felt. All he would confess was, "It could happen if I let it, but I don't. That's all you need to know."

He disagreed. He needed to know more.

That was what kept him up the most last night—how to handle this new Diana. His cynical side—the one he relied on most—reminded him that he would simply have to be as cold and platonic as possible. After all, he's Batman. Even if there were some kind of tenderness between the two, she would virtually expect him to be all business on the Watchtower or on missions. And it wouldn't be hard to come up with some kind of Gotham-related circumstances to keep her away at other times. That cynical side always had a robotic answer to Diana.

His more human side, however, wasn't so sure.

She was very different from her short-haired, granite-like counterpart. She radiated a warmth that his own Diana used to. And he hadn't even been alone with her yet—he saw this as they were walking out the back doors of Arkham in his own world. She was fresh off a fight with those ridiculous Super-drones, yet she still eyed him with a curiosity that was unmistakable. As he marched the visiting team through the sanitized corridors, he caught her deep blue eyes taking in his appearance, his walk, the exposed skin of his jaw. He pretended not to notice, and, of course, he hid his knowledge of her actions masterfully. But he saw it none the less.

She was checking him out. Maybe not in a sexual way, but she was studying him and trying to make it look casual. His own Diana had stopped looking at him in that way—in any way, really—long ago. To have her walk near him, by his side, eyeing him, looking and sounding and strutting the way she was… he rediscovered a tingle in his gut that he hadn't felt in forever.

To have that feeling now, here… that would be more than inappropriate, it would be down-right dangerous. The other Batman never divulged any such tingle. He never betrayed to him what kinds of emotions he truly felt for the Amazon. _Just don't let it happen_ was the message. So concrete, so vague. Useless advice.

No, he had no idea what he would feel when he saw her again. He had no idea what she felt when she saw him. He knew he could play the cynic—always the cynic. The hard-as-stone façade, the cold eye lenses showing nothing of the soul—they would be his tools. In a group, he knew with confidence that he would play the role, like always. But if he ever found himself alone with her… he knew that it would be the most delicious danger to enjoy.

And Batman can't enjoy anything.

* * *

Overwhelmed.

He'd used the word countless times, but never applied it to himself. "Overwhelmed" was something that could happen to a student or a new employee. A computer server or a dishwasher could get overwhelmed. Other people and things got overwhelmed. Not him.

Not Batman.

He'd felt overwhelmed before, but never really acknowledged it. He simply quantified the odds and took actions according to the laws of chance and consequence. And he'd usually been right. The bigger the challenge, the more he had to commit to it. To take down Joker was always a big job. To battle a Meta—almost any Meta was a bad-odds day. To spar with Diana and convince himself that her sly smirks and the random twinkle in her eye were something benign was daunting at times. But he'd never found himself overwhelmed. He'd only found himself in situations that he hadn't prepared himself for… entirely.

And the fact that he was still alive was proof enough to himself that he'd never been "overwhelmed."

But when he closed the trans-dimensional portal, his accelerated heart rate and the hot, sinking feeling he got in his gut were undeniable. Other people would have said that he was feeling what they felt when they were overwhelmed. He just took it as fuel for his motivation.

He knew it was a big task, with "big" being a ridiculously inadequate adjective. He and his counterpart talked endlessly about both of their new roles and the best way to accomplish all the goals they laid out for themselves. On paper, it seemed possible. In planning stages, it even seemed inevitable. But standing alone in a strange but disturbingly familiar Batcave, the best laid plans of Bats and Batmen somehow didn't seem as concrete as they had just a few moments ago when he was still standing solidly in his own world.

* * *

It was a Power Disrupter.

That's what Beta Superman had called that thing. Lex Luthor had discovered that there were common physical attributes on a cellular level of all beings considered 'Metas'. His Power Disrupter dampened those attributes. Any super-powered Human Being would instantly become, simply, a Human Being.

That's what had happened to Wonder Woman. Her gods had made her virtually human, but it was their powers and blessings that gave her the strength and the flight… all her gifts. The weapon had stripped her of all those abilities, making her a normal, human woman. It was nearly instantaneous.

Green Lantern's ring sputtered out and eventually died. The symbiotic relationship between it and his mind locked the two tightly together. It was virtually an extension of his body in many ways. Thus, the Power Disrupter affected it as if it had been a part of his right hand. His eyes faded back to their natural deep brown after a few hours.

Shayera wasn't human, but close enough. The Power Disrupter's effects took longer to completely break her down. Her strength was gone along with her mental fortitude. Her mace wasn't affected like Lantern's ring was, but it was only an Nth metal mace to her now that she was simply a human being with freakish, mutant wings jutting out of her back.

Superman had to get blasted the most in order to drain him of his abilities. Like Shayera, he wasn't human, but close enough. The effects on his body were fairly quick, but he wasn't completely broken down until at least five to ten minutes after his exposure.

J'onn, however, was not human. Not even close. The weapon knocked him for a loop, but its affects on his body were very, very gradual.

Shape shifting for him was as easy as breathing, most times. In fact, when he first arrived on Earth, part of him had to shift, simply so he could exist in the new atmosphere. His Martian lungs had to adapt to the new abundance of breathable air. His throat had to conform to the new way of talking. His eyes had to build layers of protective membranes because of the elevated oxygen level while having the liberty of losing others because of the reduced cosmic radiation. Of course, he eventually adopted a more pleasing outward appearance as well, one that wasn't too difficult to maintain. Over time, these changes became second nature – to the point where his body would naturally maintain the modifications, even if he wasn't consciously trying.

His Flash had asked him about it once. During a battle, J'onn had been knocked out. Flash wondered why his body didn't change back into his native Martian form, since his mind was basically shut down. J'onn had explained to him that his body had 'learned' a new natural state to exist in. It was a tough thing to explain, but eventually the young hero caught on; his body's Earth-oriented modifications were habit.

When Batman had dumped J'onn on the cot like so much luggage, J'onn's body was still in its 'second nature' form. At the time, there were no other reasons to believe that this wouldn't simply be the way he would have to exist from that moment on.

Now however, a few days later, things changed much more—and for the worse.

The alarm took Beta Batman somewhat by surprise. J'onn was going into cardiac arrest.

Batman leapt out of his chair in front of the Batcave computers and sprinted towards the five cells that had been erected in the training arena. He arrived in front of J'onn's cell within seconds, and his hand shot out towards the keypad locking console when he paused.

'_A wise man learns from experience… A wiser man learns from the experiences of others.'_

His mind recalled what Flash had done to fool his counterpart just a few days ago. His hand slowly lowered back to his side as he stood and carefully studied his prisoner.

J'onn was writhing on the floor. His green skin seemed pale. His mouth was opened and gaping. Without warning the Martian vomited in a spectacular display, spraying one wall of his cell with a slimy, yellowish-orange goop.

Batman checked the monitors above the keypad console. J'onn's heart rate was erratic and his body temperature was plummeting. He keyed in a few commands to check some other readouts when he noticed blue-green blood dripping from the corners of the Martian's eyes.

The pale green body began to convulse. The spasms shook the huge creature unbearably and the intensity grew with each passing second until finally he seized up and locked into a pathetic, contorted pose on the cold concrete floor.

Batman looked on in horror.

'_He's not faking THIS!'_

He started punching in the unlock code, frantic to get to the troubled prisoner. It only took a split second and the Plexiglas shield flew open. He took a few urgent steps into the cell, but then stopped cold in his tracks. His keen mind had dropped into a realization.

'_He's a Martian. He needs Mars.'_

Quickly, he ducked back out of the cell, punched in a few keystrokes and the shield slammed shut again. He raced back towards the powerful Batcave computers and unmercifully attacked the keyboard, commanding the machines to bring up technical information about Martian atmospheric properties. Within seconds, chemical makeup, temperature, humidity and pressure were all on display. A few seconds more and the same statistics were transferred into the atmospheric settings for Holding Cell Number Three.

He sprang from his chair and raced back to J'onn. The powerful fans above the containment roared to life and the cell's interior was quickly flooded with a more alien gas. There was no visible change in the appearance of the cell, but Batman was able to release a breath he didn't even realize he was holding when his prisoner slowly began to roll onto his stomach, then raise up to his hands and knees. After a few more seconds, he looked out at Batman with a confused expression.

That's when Batman noticed that he wasn't actually being looked at. J'onn head was simply facing his general direction.

No, the Martian wasn't looking at Batman at all. In fact, he wasn't looking at anything.

He was blind.

Batman instinctively took a step back from the Plexiglas seal to J'onn's cell.

'_How could I have not seen this coming? He has no powers!'_

The stark reality of the magnitude of his situation exploded in his chest. He acknowledged that restoring their powers would be a challenge. But to consider what they would be like without them was not something he had given enough thought to, apparently.

'_He can't shape-shift. Which means his body will eventually revert to its default, natural state completely. Looks like it has already. Had I caught it sooner, maybe he'd still have his vision!'_

He paused in his deducing for a moment to curse himself, the anger and embarrassment brewing deep in his gut. Grinding his teeth, his cold side kicked in, as always, to guide him through it. He shook his head to clear the self-pity and dragged his mind back to fixing the problem at hand.

'_He'll only be able to exist in a Martian environment. The atmosphere, the food… hell, even the gravitational pull and length of day could all be factors.'_

Quickly, his intellect kicked into high gear. Making a mental checklist, he headed back towards the computers. Fortunately for him, his counterpart had positioned the five holding cells in such a way that he could visit any one of the prisoners without any of the other four knowing about it. Otherwise, he would have the distraction of dealing with their questions and harassments at the most inopportune times… like this one.

He sat down at the console and brought up more about the red planet.

'_With a __thinner atmosphere,'_ he considered, _'Martians vocal communications__ would be different than humans on earth. Not unlike the way things are different between land and sea creatures. He probably won't be able to talk to me, at least not in a frequency that I'll be able to hear. But even if I can hear him, will his mouth be able to form English words? Will he be able to hear me? And he has no telepathy.'_

Batman sat back into his chair as if exhausted.

'_And now, it seems he may even be blind.'_

There was no avoiding the dire situation with his Martian prisoner. There may be virtually no way to communicate with him at all. No talking, no emotions, no writing… nothing. The lack of stimulation and input would drive the poor creature insane.

With a shake of his head, Bruce shot upright in his chair with a renewed sense of urgency. J'onn would be the first. His hands blazed away at the keyboard as he drafted a plan.

* * *

Some time later…

"You and I are both very lucky in a way," Batman Beta told Clark Kent .

"And how's that?" the taller man spat, disdain and venom clear in his voice and expression.

"We still have our secret identities."

"You're not going to have a THING once I get out of here! I don't care what toys you keep in that belt… you had no RIGHT to do this to us! This planet is going to tear itself apart without us and it's all your fault!"

Batman sat there with his most passive stare, keeping his entire demeanor neutral, thankful for the ability to hide his amazement at how much of a loose cannon the Justice Lords' Clark Kent could be. Sure, he was completely powerless, but he was still a large man. Not one that he couldn't handle easily, but his temper and his aggression were no less than surprising.

Batman also noticed that Clark had made absolutely no mention of the 'right' to keep him locked up.

"So, you think this is my fault?"

"YOU were the one that helped them escape Arkham. YOU were the one that helped them get back to their own world! You probably even helped them plan a way to attack us!"

Batman sat back in his chair watching the raving man on the other side of the Plexiglas. He crossed his ankle over his knee and steepled his fingers together in concentration. His calm, cool appearance simply enraged Clark further.

"Why'd you do it, Bruce? Couldn't handle being second fiddle? Still jealous of me?"

No answer. Just plain stares.

"Did you think that you finally had a chance to finish what you started?"

That got a reaction. Batman's head cocked slightly, then he slowly lowered his hands and leaned forward.

"That's a very interesting question," he stated in the calmest, most patronizing voice. "Do _you_ think that I'm trying to finish what I started?"

Clark turned his head, still seething, but kept quiet.

"Do _you_ think that I'm jealous of you?"

Clark still kept mum.

"I'm curious, Clark… if you think that those were my motivations… then what do you feel were the motivations of that other world's Superman?"

Clark's face grew even more sour, yet with a touch of introspection. After a hard moment of thinking he finally spat out his poor answer.

"He was weak," he declared quietly, strongly, through tightened lips. He turned his steely blue eyes up towards his interrogator. "He was what I used to be."

Expertly, Batman concealed his urge to flinch.

"So, you've grown and he hasn't? Are you sure about that?"

"YOU should know. Weren't you the one that first showed us that we could make this a better world by changing our ways? What was it you said once, Bruce? Oh... yeah… if you want people to follow the big laws, you have to enforce the little ones."

Batman nodded smugly, as if agreeing with that sentiment.

"Those… pretenders in that other world don't even do that! They just sit around and… WAIT for something bad to happen. Sooner or later it's gonna bite 'em in the ASS!"

"You could be right," Batman said calmly. "And they'll be the ones that will have to pay for it."

"No, the rest of their WORLD will have to pay for their idleness. They have the RESPONSIBILITY to make their world a better place!"

"Like we did?"

"Yes! Exactly like we did!"

"Exactly?" Batman challenged. "I wonder if Flash would have agreed with that idea."

* * *

Hours later…

John Stewart was lying on his cot. His television was on, but he wasn't watching it. His hands were laced under his head and his ankles were crossed comfortably. His dark eyes stared up at the unfriendly ceiling, although he wasn't actually seeing it. No, he was trying to visualize what was going to come next.

"I'm sure they're on their way," the familiar voice told him.

John didn't bother looking at his former colleague outside his cell.

"How they arrive is somewhat uncertain, but I'm sure they'll want to see you and get some answers. What are you going to tell them?"

"I'm going to tell them that I was betrayed," John said simply, "And that I need another ring so I can continue doing my job."

"Do you think that they'll believe that?"

"They should. It's the truth."

Batman pondered his answer. In a way, it was the truth. Lantern and the rest of the Lords had been betrayed… that really wasn't very debatable. Whether it was for better or worse was the real question.

"You make an excellent point."

"Hmmm," Stewart grunted as if it mattered. He stayed on his cot, secure in his belief that he'd have his chance to exact justice on the Judas speaking to him from the other side of the Plexiglas.

"But I have a question for you," Batman continued. "What will the guardians say when they discover the way we've been running this planet these past two years? Will they approve of our methods? Will they agree with the way you wielded your power?"

"I've never given them reason to second guess their decision to make me a Green Lantern."

John's voice was so even, so devoid of emotion. He was almost mechanical in his responses. His calm demeanor, his tension-free posture… he was completely at peace with himself and his situation. Everything about him displayed how confident he was that all he had to do was wait and his world would be right again.

And Batman saw it for what it truly was… a brilliant disguise.

John was worried.

John had a _tell_… a character trait that exposed when he was uncertain of himself; his lips stayed shut. The man's integrity and devotion rarely allowed for any uncertain words or regretful actions to ever take place. And if the unfortunate did occur, he would simply remain still and silent. Because whatever he did would either go unnoticed or would simply be forgotten in light of all the admirable feats he performed day in and day out.

It also bought him time to contemplate his next move.

The fateful descent of the Lords was so gradual, so _logical_ from an extreme point of view, that even the best of intentions and the harshest of actions were barely distinguishable from each other. John methodically, sometimes ruthlessly, applied his authority and did so with the mind-calming ability to justify every action he took.

He was making the world safer in the long run.

He was ending the wars and the crimes and the pain.

As Batman watched him lying on his bed, sighing occasionally, it became clear that it would take extreme measures to break through John's thick skull.

John had been a US Marine. He was no stranger to physical extremes. He was well-trained in keeping his mental fortitude even when his body was enduring excruciating situations. Fear wasn't an outside tool that would have much effect. With the kind of military and extra-terrestrial training John had survived, it would be difficult to have anything physical affect his belief that he had done nothing wrong.

Batman would have to find a way to change John's mind that was purely not physically rooted.

But that didn't leave many doors open. The problem wasn't factual. There was no logic, there were no numbers… There were no statistics that supported the concept that what the Justice Lords had been doing was "wrong." In fact, the data suggested otherwise. Crime was down dramatically. Military skirmishes were virtually absent. Weapons of Mass Destruction were collected and almost completely obliterated from the planet. No, the logical approach could not be used.

John's redemption would have to come from within. His body could be ignored. His mind had already found the logical bonds to his actions. The only thing left would be his heart.

That was the one thing that had anything left resembling softness.

And softness wasn't something Batman was comfortable dealing with.

'_I'm going to need help with him.'_

* * *

"Hi, Bruce," she sighed.

"Shayera."

She didn't look at him, save for the initial glance she spared when he stopped in front of her cell. Her mask was gone. She had changed into the gray sweatpants and white tank top he had left for her.

He watched her for a few awkward seconds as she sat on the edge of her bed, her elbows on her knees, her emerald eyes, missing their normal fire, staring at nothing at all. She fidgeted her hands a little, swallowed and shook her head almost imperceptibly.

"I don't suppose I could ask you for some books or something?"

"What kind of books?"

"I don't know," she answered sadly, shrugging. "Something to pass the time. I've never been a big fan of television."

Bruce watched her some more. Her body language screamed of a defeated woman. Everything about her displayed that she had already resigned herself to the concept that she was in her new home.

Permanently.

He wanted to make sure…

"Pass the time until what?"

She tossed her hands and sat up.

"'Till whenever."

Batman dragged the pause out long enough to make sure she was growing uncomfortable. When he felt that her gut was stirring, he took a verbal swing.

"Until you devise a way to escape?"

Her face twisted with disbelief.

"Is that what you think?" she asked with the first signs of real emotion.

Again, he dragged out the silence.

"What should I think?" he toyed with her.

She forced a hard sigh, shrugging, shaking her head.

"I dunno," she mumbled. "I'm not thinking about escaping… Where would I go if I did?"

Bruce pondered her words:

'_She's been thinking about this quite a lot. She already has acknowledged that she has very, very few choices.'_

"I can't very well _blend in_, now can I?"

'_She has already conceded that she's lost the world.'_

"The world still believes that the Justice Lords are in power. Don't tell me that you haven't considered that. You're a detective, Shayera. I know how you think."

Her head sank and her expression grew a trace of pain that he had neither expected, nor could explain.

"You have no idea who I am or how I think," she declared with such conviction that he almost believed it. "You have no idea how I got here."

She finally looked him in the eye. She was serious.

"_I_ don't even know why I'm on this planet. All I know; is I wanted to make this world better, but instead, I've helped to make it worse."

Her eyes drifted down and there was no indication in any of her features to suggest that she wasn't spilling her entire heart to him.

"There's nothing left for me…" she said so softly that it was practically a whisper. "If you don't want to bring me anything to read… then… that's fine."

She turned and collapsed on her bed, her arm draped over her eyes.

Batman watched her for a few more difficult seconds before leaving her in her misery.

"I'll see what I can find for you."

* * *

His heart fluttered as he approached her cell. Despite Clark 's rage, Lantern's robotic disposition… even J'onn's unfortunate condition, Diana was the one that he was the most concerned about. Whatever was going to happen… it wasn't going to be pretty.

He just hoped that she would cooperate and his plan wouldn't be needed.

He deliberately made sure his footsteps were heard. He was virtually marching when he came into view of her cell and stopped abruptly dead-center in front of the clear barrier separating them from each other.

He tried his best to be imposing—to be _Batman_—but for some reason, he wasn't sure he succeeded.

She had changed into the jeans and plain, black t-shirt he left for her. Her face was as beautiful as ever, but lacked the usual openness he had grown fond of. Her short hair seemed to accentuate the severity of her expression. She was slouched in the only chair her cell held. There was nothing powerful or regal about her posture or demeanor. One leg was up hanging over the arm, and she absently flipped the buttons of the television remote. She didn't even look his way or acknowledge his presence.

The television blinked as station after station jumped by. The sounds hopped from conversations to birds chirping to sporting events. Still, she kept her blue eyes locked on that Godforsaken screen.

He could see that she may have been relaxed recently, but she was trying too hard to look so now. Her features and her body were being forced to ignore him. Her eyes were directed towards the damned television, but he could tell she was using her peripheral vision to watch for him to leave.

He gave her no such relief.

"Do you have anything to say?" he demanded.

She continued to ignore him. He gave her a few more seconds and followed up.

"Are there any special needs you require?"

More silence. More tension.

The screen flipped and flipped and flipped.

Her head almost turned when she heard him manipulate an item on his belt and then start talking to somebody else.

"Batman to Watchtower… I've activated a teleport sensor patch. Lock on to the person it's secured to and teleport them to the coordinates specified in fifteen seconds… Batman out."

Her blue eyes widened slightly, despite her desperate attempts to remain unemotional. But her curiosity and uncertainty finally overrode her pride and slowly her head turned to face her former lover as she rose to her feet.

He could see her need for an answer in her face.

"You're not Wonder Woman anymore," he told her. "And you're not the woman I fell in love with. There's no hope for us and there's no hope for you. You're wasting my time."

His cold, heartless tone… the deliberate, soul wrenching words finally got her to react. She almost had a second to say something, but the blinding white-blue light blazed through her mind and when she was finally able to focus, she found herself standing in the middle of some unknown highway surrounded by nothing but desert sands and odd patches of arid vegetation. The twin yellow lines she was straddling stretched before her towards the setting sun.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5: Setting the Wheels in Motion

Typical disclaimer: I don't own these characters and no profit is gained from this fiction.

SPOILER ALERT: Scenes from "Eclipse" are cited in this chapter.

* * *

Chapter 5: Setting the Wheels in Motion

ALPHA WORLD…

Lord Wonder Woman found the teleport patch in one of the back pockets of her jeans. She looked at it for a moment, her lips tight in frustration. Then she threw it down onto the pavement and crushed it beneath her heel.

"Coward!" she cursed out loud to the emptiness around her.

She also found the three $100 bills in the other pocket. She considered throwing those to the wind, wanting nothing to do with anything that _that man _would have given to her, but her common sense won over her pride and she put the money back into her pocket.

With little else to do, she started walking down the highway, choosing west towards the setting sun for no particular reason. Within an hour, she had crested over the second rise and in the darkening twilight, she could make out the twinkling lights of a small town in the distance. Another hour and a half and she wandered through the glass doors of an outdated gas station.

"Where's your bathroom?" she demanded coldly of the fat lady behind the counter.

"Bathroom's for customers," the lady replied harshly.

Dropping her face into a deadly scowl, Diana reached across the counter for the lady's lapel.

"Listen, you obese cow," she started before she realized that she couldn't hoist the woman into the air like she wanted.

In a motion quicker than would be expected, the woman grappled Diana's hands off her vest and grabbed a shotgun from under the counter. She thrust the business end of the barrel beneath Diana's chin.

"You got 'till three before your pretty face ain't so pretty! Now get the hell outa my store!"

Diana quickly recovered from her mistake and regained her air of authority. She stood defiant in front of the weapon and locked her cold blue eyes on the other woman.

"Don't you know who I am, you stupid woman? I'm Diana of the Justice Lords! Drop your weapon and…"

Her threat was interrupted by a shotgun butt against the cheek. She went sprawling to the floor, knocking over a white metal turnstile of postcards.

"You ain't nothin' but a memory if you don't high-tail it now, girly!"

To punctuate her threat, the fat woman cocked home a shell.

Diana lay on her side for a few seconds, holding her face and wincing in pain. As she did, it dawned on her that she wasn't recognized, and without her strength and speed, she would have no chance against the shotgun. She slowly regained her feet and turned back towards the shopkeeper one last time before leaving.

"You've just made the biggest mistake of your miserable little life, you wretched creature."

She made her way out of the store, past the outdated gasoline pumps and back along the highway. She had to blink her eyes clear as the pain in her cheek continued to throb throughout her head. A few minutes later, she found herself at the entrance to a roadside tavern.

Inside, it was dark and smoky. The jukebox was playing an old rebellious song and the few patrons were all engaged with the pool tables, dart boards or throwing appalling comments at the only waitress working.

She wandered to the bar and sat down. Within moments, an older man in a striped shirt and apron made his way over to serve her.

"What can I get for you, pretty lady… Whoa!"

He ducked his head down and around to try to get a better look at the wound on her cheek.

"Are you OK, Miss? Can I get you something for that?"

Diana roughly grabbed a paper napkin off the stack nearby and dabbed at her cheek, checking for blood. Upon seeing none, she then turned her attention to the bartender.

_Maybe authority wouldn't be very welcome here, either…_

"Could I just get some ice?" she asked, then made the deliberate effort to add "Please?"

"Comin' right up," the man announced.

She took a moment to look around the room again and found that a couple people had started to notice her but there was no indication that they recognized her or gave her any more attention than they would any other stranger in their bar. It was disturbing to think that her face wasn't immediately known. Had she been less tired, less aggravated, she might have grown irritated by the lack of respect.

Then the scent of grilled burgers finally registered in her mind. She was hungry. She ate very little while in her cell, mostly out of spite for Bruce, but now her grumbling stomach was starting to get the better of her.

"Here's your ice, Miss. Can I get you anything else?"

Diana paused for a moment. That was the second time he called her "Miss". She wasn't known here… at least not for the moment. She wasn't Wonder Woman. She wasn't a Justice Lord. She wasn't a Princess. No, she was just another wandering soul that happened to stumble into this little, forgotten whiskey joint. The realization descended on her like a warm blanket in the winter; This was clearly an opportunity for her to live a few moments of life freed from the yokes of responsibility that had burdened her for so long.

Despite the discomfort, her face bloomed into a genuine smile of gratitude.

"Thank you," she said warmly to the kindly man – regardless of the fact that he was _a man_. "I'm actually quite hungry."

"Well you're in the right place," the man smiled back. "Best burgers for sixty miles down the highway in either direction!"

"That sounds great!"

"One famous burger with all the fixin's! Fries too?"

"Oh, yes, please."

"And to drink?"

Her mouth tightened as she tried to keep her grin from growing any bigger.

"Beer!"

* * *

STILL ALPHA WORLD…

Batman smiled.

Well, for him it was a smile. In reality, his face barely registered any levity at all, but inwardly he was pleased with himself. The technician on the Watchtower that he was communicating with was clearly intimidated.

"The equipment is ready, sir," the technician reported, his words sounding forced.

"Send it now," Batman ordered. "And inform me if Lord Superman contacts you with any updates on his mission."

"Yes Sir!"

"Lord Batman out."

A few short seconds later, several large crates materialized in the Batcave in a rush of blue and white light.

Taking a moment to finish some work on the massive computers, Batman Beta stood up and approached the crates. Some were marked "Damaged", the others: "Complete". He stood before one of the "Damaged" crates, twisted the latch and lifted the lid to find five Superman heads staring at him blankly.

"Bloody ridiculous things," he muttered as he picked up one of the android parts and turned it over for inspection.

Half an hour later, there were five complete sets of dismembered androids laid out on the cold cave floor. He had stripped the costumes off four of them and began to wheel one of his countless tool chests closer to his work. He took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself for what was sure to be several hours of monotony.

On the huge computer screens across from him were schematics and plans for the modifications he needed to make. They didn't have to be perfect. In fact, if his plan worked, no human would actually lay eyes on them - they would only be seen via telecommunications. But the perfectionist in him would ensure that they _would_ be perfect regardless. Of course.

By morning, the Justice Lords would be able to make an appearance.

* * *

BETA WORLD...

Alfred maneuvered the limousine skillfully through the maze of Gotham traffic as his visiting charge prepared for his most public appearance in several days. He stole a glance at Lord Bruce Wayne in the back seat and was able to make out the headline of the paper that he was reading:

_Five Injured in Power Plant Explosion Caused by Decorated General_

"We should be arriving at Wayne Tower in just a few moments, Sir."

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce replied with an uncharacteristic touch of uncertainty.

The younger man sighed through his nose as he neatly placed the Gotham Times on the seat next to him. He checked his cuff links and smoothed back his hair. One last roll of his head on his neck and a quick adjustment of his tie before the car stopped and the door was opened for him by the sharply dressed doorman.

There were a few reporters waiting and several flashes went off from the photographers buzzing around the building entrance. The meeting was going to be big news - another corporate takeover and another company brought cleanly within the folds of Wayne Enterprises.

He rolled his lips into a powerful and knowing smile as his sharp eyes glided over the small crowd, lingering longest on the prettier reporters. The questions were thrown quickly, but he skillfully dodged each one as a few security guards finally started clearing his path. Before he entered the revolving door, he threw the vultures a bone.

"I hope you all bought the right stocks this week!"

A small chorus of chuckles rose and the flashes continued.

He was just about to turn and enter his building when the entire city seemed to get gloomier than normal. He was the first to notice, but soon everybody's expression was as confused or concerned as his. It wasn't long before somebody on the sunnier side of the street yelled and pointed to the sky.

"Look!"

Before he could make it through all the traffic, the sky wasn't so sunny any more. When he finally was able to see what the others saw, his chest inflated and his strong jaw tensed.

The meeting would have to wait.

He darted around the stopped cars and the wave of pedestrians that started wandering with growing fear and anguish. Nobody was looking where they were going, but all eyes were angled up at the darkening sun. Nobody saw him blast into the lobby of the building and dash across the giant marble "W" on the cold floor. He pounded his fist on the door to his private elevator when it didn't open fast enough for his patience. Once inside, he slid his hand over the security panel and entered his code.

Moments later, the doors opened to the penthouse suite on the top floor. He tore across the sitting room and to the hidden compartment in the wall. By the time the secret door closed behind him, the world outside had almost gone completely dark.

* * *

Lord Stewart didn't look away from the television set as the footsteps stopped in front of his cell. He kept his keel even and his face neutral. He had nothing more to say to his captor.

He didn't notice, however, that the footsteps weren't as heavy as they normally were.

"Who's done this to you, John?" a female voice asked.

John's face flashed with confusion before he sprang to his feet and spun around to see his visitor.

"Kat?"

Katma Tui, the lithe and dangerous Green Lantern that mentored John Stewart stood before him with concern and confusion in her face. Her brilliant eyes met his and her slight features doubled their expression when she noticed the unmistakable change.

His eyes were brown. And they were empty.

As she searched his face and waited for an answer, he loosed a ragged sigh. He wasn't expecting _her._

Of all the other Lanterns the Guardians could have sent, she was the one that he didn't want to have to face. They had been close. Closer than a teacher and student should have been. Too close. And she had trained him well. But despite their affection and her superb job of forging him into a Green Lantern, she still had a way of making him feel shame… even if he didn't think he'd done anything wrong.

"Who, John? And what's happened to your ring?" she asked noticing his empty right hand. "I've tracked it here, but you're not wearing it…"

He didn't answer. Until this very moment, he'd been able to convince himself that he was undoubtedly in the right. He _knew_ that anybody that was sent to investigate the problems with his ring would not only understand what the Justice Lords had been doing for the past two years, they would whole-heartedly approve. After all, he's John Stewart – one of the best active Lanterns in the sector.

But not her. She knew his weaknesses and his quirks. She knew his bravado and his insecurities. She knew when he was full of shit and called him on it every time. And she was always right.

Until this very moment, John believed that by proving to the others that he'd done nothing wrong, that he'd be vindicated and restored to active status, new ring and all—no questions asked. Now he finally realized that he had been dreaming.

She raised her hand to the Plexiglas.

"John," she said sternly. It got his attention. "Who took your ring? Who locked you up in there?"

"I did," came a voice from the shadows out of John's view. "And his ring is hidden in one of the hollow posts of his bed."

John wasted no time lunging across his cell and throwing the mattress aside. He shook the bed frame violently and listened for the distinct rattle. Honing in on the proper post, he torqued the metal pipe until it gave and the ring rattled down the cold length in to his hand.

His eyes slid shut as he slipped it onto his finger, then tightened his fist.

The ring stayed dark.

Katma Tui watched the whole scene, and upon witnessing the anticlimax, spun back towards the general direction of the voice, bringing her own fist up, the ring on it glowing brightly. Her face twisted with anger as she prepared for a fight.

"What have you done to him?" she demanded.

John made his way over to the Plexiglas wall and strained to look past the right side of his cell for the voice as well.

"I didn't do anything to him or his ring."

"Don' t listen to him, Kat," Stewart warned. "He betrayed us and we're all stripped of our powers because of it."

Kat's head turned towards John slightly as he spoke, but her sharp eyes stayed locked on the darkness, searching for the owner of the voice.

"He wants to take over the world," John added.

"Alright," Kat declared towards the shadows. "You're coming with me."

She took a strong step forward, but with a sudden slam, all the breakers in the Batcave dropped open, washing everybody in total darkness.

Katma powered her ring up and shined it like a flashlight against the far cave walls. After a second she turned towards John, her face silhouetted in the pale green glow.

"Where is he?" she asked with a touch of concern.

"You should hear the whole story," Batman announced, his voice coming from the opposite direction.

Kat spun around, firing a bolt of green energy towards the voice. A small explosion blasted out of John's view and the crumbling crackle of cave wall debris landing on the floor echoed throughout the cavern.

"Watch him," John warned as his old teacher stealthily made her way around the left side of his cell.

She was scarcely two seconds out of John's view before the sounds of hand-to-hand fighting could be heard. The darkness was speared with blazing flashes of green, but John heard nothing to suggest that any target was hit. It was impossible to tell who was doing what, but the number of times Kat groaned told that she wasn't faring well.

Without warning another green column of power streaked across the cave from a completely different direction, washing the cave with the eerie glow.

"No you don't!" came the low, throaty voice.

John's head spun the other way and watched as Kilowog marched by his cell, his ring locking down something John couldn't see. Clearly, the Lanterns had suspected a trap and appropriately laid one of their own. The giant pink alien nodded at John as he continued towards his prey.

Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

"What the-?"

An unseen projectile whizzed into the huge Lantern's forehead knocking him to the ground and the cave went pitch black again.

John stood silent as the grave in his cell. He heard footsteps and some rustling, then the sounds of an enormous body being dragged. A few minutes later the lights came back on.

Nobody was there.

* * *

BETA WORLD...

_WhatAreYouGonnaDoNowWally?_

The young hero fought to keep his nerves cool and his mind clear as he skimmed through the Watchtower vent shafts.

_Think, you idiot! Think!_

_I can't leave because the Javelin's trashed. And I can only outrun them for so long…_

_I'm probably gonna need some help._

Had his own Batman been around, it would have been an easier decision. Despite their run-ins and their lack of eye-to-eye compatibility, he knew that Batman would have his back. Even if it took a while for him to get up to the Watchtower to help, he'd at least have some _ideas_.

He'd know what to do.

Flash carefully crawled some more, trying to keep his breathing as low as possible. Those snake things seemed to know the powers of each of the bodies they inhabited. No doubt Superman could hear him if he wasn't careful.

He paused and listened for a moment.

_J'onn can find me with his mind._

_Supes has his hearing… Oh, dang! I almost forgot his x-ray eyes!_

_I can't stay in this duct for ever… and if they find me, I won't be able to run. I need some open space._

_No…_

_I DO need help._

It was a tough decision to arrive at, but Flash knew he had little choice. He had to call _him_. That _other_ Batman.

It had been a week since Flash had been let in on the secret. Thankfully, there was only one meeting since then. It was short and dull and the imposter had kept his Batmouth shut the whole time. Other than that, they only had to pass each other in the hallways on a handful of occasions.

Sure, he _looked_ like the real Batman. He acted like him, walked like him, sounded like him. But there was still something about him that made Wally's skin crawl. He had reasoned with himself during a slow monitor duty that he wouldn't be able to tell that this guy wasn't legit, had he not been told. But then again, he had been so preoccupied with trying to behave like there was nothing wrong, that he might have missed something. Did the others suspect?

Well, even if they did, Batman was Batman. He may have done something bad when he was a Justice Lord--that was a history that Wally was thankful to be ignorant of--but he also had shown that he was willing to make amends.

_Maybe he can be trusted. After all, the real Bats trusts him…_

Flash activated his communicator.

"Bats!" he whispered desperately. "Mayday!"

* * *

After two hours of waiting, Lord John Stewart heard people approaching. He watched as Kilowog and Katma stopped in front of his cell. She was looking at him with a completely unrecognizable expression… maybe something between anger and frustration. Kilowog's head was drooping and his alien features seemed to pass for sad.

"He told us his side," Kat announced. "And he showed us the evidence."

There was an intolerable pause before John spoke.

"And?"

Katma drew in a deep breath and seemed to resign herself to saying what she knew she must.

"And… we're going to take you before the Guardians."

"I've done nothing wrong, Kat," John declared strongly.

"I'm not so sure, John."

As the two stared each other down, Kilowog's head slowly wagged as he mumbled.

"I can't believe Little Poozer's dead."

John stole a glance at his giant friend and he took a moment to remember that sad fact.

There seemed to be nothing else to say. The three of them let their eyes drift down and they waited for something or somebody to call the next act into play.

The sound of mechanical clanking ended the silence. A second later, the Plexiglas slid open.

He should have sprinted into the open. He should have raced out to hunt his captor. He should have remembered how to get angry. But between the shame that Kat was forcing him into and the grief that Kilowog stirred within him, he found the strength to do nothing but numbly wander out and stand between them.

"Kilowog," Kat said lowly, "take him and head back. I'll catch up in a few minutes."

The huge Green Lantern nodded and his ring powered up a green sphere around himself and John. Within moments, they were gone.

Katma Tui made her way back out of the Training Arena of the Batcave where the holding cells were kept and found Batman at his computers.

He sat at the controls dressed from head to toe in a brilliantly yellow Batsuit.

"We'll take care of him," she said.

"He's a good man," Batman replied without looking at her. "We need him back here as soon as you can get him to where he needs to be."

She nodded her consent and took in a deep breath.

"We will," she answered. "Is there anything else you need from us?"

"Yes," he said as he turned and walked across the cave towards a large crate. He pried it open and motioned for her to look at the satellite inside. "I need you to take this with you and place it in orbit of our sun somewhere past Pluto."

"No problem."

"And Katma…" he started before finishing with some difficulty. "Thank you."

She nodded fondly, but as she lifted into the air, her beautiful face took on a slightly playful smirk.

"Batman… lose that suit. You look ridiculous."

* * *

Later that day…

In a small town north of Portland, a young lady was leaving her job at a quaint flower shop. She opened the glass door and it caused the little silver bell dangling above it to chime happily as she stepped out into the late afternoon sun.

"Bye, Suzanne!" she called to her friend and employer.

"Bye, Drew!" sang a cheerful voice from the back room.

The young lady almost ran headlong into the handsome man in the expensive suit that was trying to make his way into the shop. She excused herself and flashed him a polite smile, but found herself blushing and swooning from the effect his gorgeous eyes had on her.

As she continued toward her car, she took one last glance to make sure he looked as good leaving as he did coming.

'_Yep,'_ she thought with a naughty smile, hoping nobody caught her checking out his buns.

The handsome man caught the door before it hit the bell again and entered the flower shop unnoticed. He waited patiently by the counter for a few moments. When it was clear that nobody was aware of his presence, he cleared his throat.

"I'll be right there!" Suzanne called from the back room. The cute, petite brunette breezed through the door way, wiping her hands with a cloth and apologizing before looking up.

"I'm sorry," she continued. "I didn't hear you come…"

She stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing Bruce Wayne in her store. Her beautiful face fell into an expressionless mask. Her charming voice fell dead in the air.

"Hello, Zatanna," Bruce tried.

He got no response for his efforts.

"It's been a long time," he tried again.

"Not long enough," she said coldly through tight lips.

Bruce's eyes slowly lowered as his head nodded in understanding. He knew this wouldn't be easy.

After taking a moment to decide on the best way to proceed, he opened his mouth and drew in a cleansing breath, but before he could speak…

"Get out."

"Zatanna, wait…"

_"Get. Out."_

She still hadn't budged an inch, but her expression could have moved mountains.

Bruce paused to consider her words, then stood tall and stared down his nose at her.

"No," he declared strongly.

She finally moved. Her right hand raised and started to glow.

"We both know that won't work," he said with a slight cock of his head.

"But trying will make me feel better," she shot back as her glowing hand started to sputter sparks.

"I'm not here to fight with you," he said with some urgency.

She took a step forward.

"Zatanna!" he warned.

She started speaking in reverse. Before she got the second syllable out, he produced an ancient pendant from his pocket. Zatanna stopped her curse with a gasp and her hand hung in the air as if frozen. He vaulted the counter and grappled her wrist. The glowing and sparking vanished and the young sorceress winced as he twisted her arm a little more than may have been necessary.

Putting on a brave face and swinging her other hand ineffectively against his chest, she grinded out her protest through gritted teeth.

"Let _go_ of me, you twisted, maniacal _bastard._"

"I will, when you've calmed down," he promised with as soothing a voice as he could muster. "I just need to talk to you."

She stopped swatting at him and relaxed enough for him to relieve some of her pain. A few calming seconds later, he dropped her wrist altogether and she straightened up with as much dignity as she could find.

"Fine," she finally huffed, and stormed into the back room.

He followed politely, but kept up his guard. She led him to a small office and sat in the old rolling chair. He found a folding metal chair leaning against the wall, opened it and took his own seat. They both appeared to force themselves into something resembling comfort, sizing each other up with their eyes.

"So, talk."

"It's good to see you," he said with enough sincerity that she should have believed him. Whether she actually did or not was soon to be obviously irrelevant.

"Cut the shit, Bruce. Why are you here?"

"I need a favor of you."

Her eyes widened with fury mixed with incredulous surprise.

"YOU WANT _ME_…"

"LISTEN!" he interrupted, holding up a hand. "Please. There's a lot going on that…"

He stopped himself midsentence and looked away in introspection. She didn't let him continue.

"No, I _won't_ listen! You come in here, the High and Mighty Justice Lord, and ask _me_ to do _you _a favor?! After all you and your Justice Lord Cohorts have done? I had to change my NAME because of you! I can't use any of my magic. I can't connect with any other mages. I can't even _heal_ people without risking the wrath of the 'Dreaded Six' and now you come into _my store_ and tell me you want a favor?! Are you out of your Goddamn mind?"

Bruce sat patiently, but tensely, letting her vent. He wasn't fully aware of her history with the Justice Lords, nor was he very up-to-speed on any history that this Zatanna may have had with the other Batman, but he did know that it wasn't a pretty situation. It was a calculated risk in even coming here. But he needed somebody with magical powers that he might be able to trust and she was on the top of his list – even in this universe.

Unfortunately, her rant wiped away any illusions he had of finding a willing accomplice. Clearly the history here was even more poisoned than he realized. It would take an incredible amount of convincing to get her to tone herself down to 'rational', let alone 'cooperative'. But he did have a few things in his favor: His (assumed) position of authority and his charm would come in handy. She was just sassy enough for him to use both powers against her in the most unconventional ways…

He leaned his elbow onto her desk, and rested his chin in his palm. The corners of his mouth raised ever-so-slightly and his eyes softened with a natural twinkle.

It took a second for her to catch his charisma in action. She hesitated her next verbal assault for just a split second, but he caught it.

"You've got _some nerve_ to come in here…"

"God, you're pretty," he said half to himself. He allowed his eyes to linger on her legs a little longer than was polite as he drank in her figure. "You're even more beautiful than I remember."

She flustered for a moment, then resumed her ranting.

"Don't you _dare_ try to sweet talk me! This isn't something you can charm your way out of! You've imprisoned the WORLD, Bruce!"

"Especially when you're mad," he continued as if she weren't talking.

She shut her lips tight in frustration as her chin sank to her chest and her hands slid up into the air, fingers wide-spread.

"Get out," she growled, her rage starting to boil over, her voice gaining with each word. "Get out of here now, or so help me, I'll…"

"Batman to Watchtower," his strong voice interrupted.

"Watchtower," crackled the response. He was holding his communicator so that she could hear every word and understand that he wasn't bluffing.

"I have a lead on a flower shop that may be operating as a front for drug traffickers and possible weapons smuggling. Organize a 'Sweep and Clear' squad…"

Her eyes grew as large as baseballs in disbelief.

"You wouldn't dare!" she whispered roughly.

"… assemble them in the Javelin bay, and await further instructions."

"Aye, sir."

He put the communicator into his pocket and leveled his gaze at her once more, only this time there was no charm, only resolve.

They stared each other down for a painfully long moment before Zatanna let her pretty eyes slide down to look at nothing at all. The sad realization of her situation sank into her gut and she slumped back into her chair.

"Now, that I have your attention…" he started calmly. "As I was saying, I need a favor. But before I ask, there's something I think you should know."

* * *

AN: I'm not even going to try to explain why it took me so long to get this chapter out. I also doubt that any kind of apology will be worth a darn... but "SORRY" any way! I will say, however, that the next one shouldn't take NEARLY as long.

AN: I know that I jump back and forth between Alpha (Lord's) World and Beta (canon with the cartoon series) World. I try to either note which world each passage takes place in by specifically stating so at the start of the passage, or by making it obvious within the first few sentences. If I don't do a good job, then by all means, let me have it. In my mind it makes sense! If it doesn't make sense as you read it, then I'm not doing too good a job.


	6. Chapter 6: Progress

**Disclaimer: DC owns all these characters as far as I know. No profit is gained by this fic.**

**It's a blessed man that has friends. I'm triple-blessed in that I have Kipling-Nori, GeekyBMWWFan and Hepburn to thank. They've all tag-teamed the Beta thing for me, correcting things, pointing out stuff they like/don't like, helping me out immeasurably. Big thanks to all three great people.**

**This story is a sequel of sorts to "A Better World". There are spoilers. It is also a companion piece to another story of mine; The Powers That Be (which is a prequel to "A Better World"), but I'm going to try to write it so you don't have to read that one. We'll see how it goes.**

**SPOILER ALERT: a few more accounts from "Eclipse" in this one.**

* * *

Eternal: Chapter 6

Progress

After that first beer and that unbelievably delicious "Steve's Famous Burger" with all the fixin's and fries, Diana found herself engrossed in a conversation with the old man. He spun yarns about what he'd seen in his 23 years in the military and told stories about how he traveled the Alaskan wilderness to visit his uncle up at Twin Lakes. He had countless tales about fights and celebrities and all other kinds of happenings in this very tavern. Diana was so enthralled; it didn't take long for her to forget that he was a man.

The 'regulars' that night had been friendly to her as well. There was no sign that they had any ulterior motives, even though some of them gave her a few rather unrefined compliments on her looks. All in all, however, they were very friendly and warm to her. Despite some of them being relatively unkempt and somewhat unsophisticated, she was pleasantly surprised to find that she had fallen in with some very accommodating people. She found herself feeling guilty for stereotyping them earlier simply because of the abundance of black t-shirts, leather and chains.

She played her first game of pool. She learned a few new games of darts. She was tempted to take a shot of tequila the way that Rose and Sean were doing all night, but Steve's silent head shake made her reconsider.

The whole evening grew into one long form of entertainment and stress relief. Nobody pressured her for her story. Nobody made her feel unwelcome – on the contrary, actually. All the conversations and joking and prank pulling seemed to bring her within the folds of a warm circle of friends. Before she knew it, she was cracking jokes with and about people as well as taking a few herself. Her smile never dimmed for long.

At the end of that first night, she was one of the last few to remain as Steve announced 'Last Call.' That's when the sinking feeling in her gut reminded her that she had no place to go. The concern on her face was caught by the old barkeep.

"You, uh… you're not _driving_ home, are you Diana?" he asked with concern.

"No, I… Well actually, I don't have a car and I… I don't have a home either, really."

She punctuated her statement with a simple grin and a shrug, then she turned towards the door.

"But I have some money," she continued, "So I guess I'll look for a hotel or something."

"You'll be looking a long time," Steve declared. "No hotels, motels or nothin' in this town. Nearest one's a good 35 miles west."

'_Figures,'_ she conceded introspectively. For the first time in hours she spared a thought to Bruce Wayne and it was only to curse his name again.

Before she could even think of what to say, let alone what to plan for, Steve tossed her an offer that was too hard to pass up.

"Look… there's an apartment upstairs that's being renovated. It smells of new paint and there's not much furniture… but there's a bed. My wife and I live next door and I'll go get you some clean sheets and I'll…"

"Steve, I can't accept…" she tried to interrupt. She may have been temporarily and thankfully relieved of the pressures of royalty, demigod-hood and other such loftiness, but she still had her pride.

"Don't you dare say that you can't accept it," Steve interrupted back with a pointed finger. "Besides, this isn't charity. I'm gonna put you to work tomorrow!"

She caught the playful tone in his voice. He wasn't bluffing, but she could also tell that he wasn't somebody to fear or mistrust.

She was sighing and shaking her head as he put his hand on her shoulder – the first physical contact she'd actually had with any person all night, save for the lady that gave her the shiner – and he led her towards the back of the building. Before she knew it, she was sleeping like the dead in a strange bedroom.

The apartment had no window dressings so the morning sun woke her from a dreamless, invigorating slumber. She had no fresh clothes. She had no toiletries. The apartment had no food, except for the four cans of soda in the fridge, obviously left by the workers that Steve hired for the renovation job.

But she did have over $250 sitting in her back pocket.

The front window slid up with some difficulty, but she opened it and leaned out to look up and down the street. Towards the rising sun, she could see the highway she had trudged along the night before. She saw the dreaded gas station and thought for a moment of plotting some revenge. Thankfully, the gentle morning breeze and the thought of getting on with her day shook that idea out of her head. She'd let that other Diana stay buried for a few more hours.

Turning towards the west, she saw that the little town stretched for a mile or so before the road-curved north. Traffic was almost non-existent. There were some obligatory fast food spots, the occasional gas station and a few 'mom & pop' storefronts. She only saw one traffic light and a bridge over a sorry-looking river. Out beyond the town she could see vast amounts of nothing but wild desert scenery.

She forced the window shut, being careful to not push too hard and break it, then made her way to the door. As she stepped out, she found a small wicker basket at her feet with a note taped to the handle. It had her name written on it.

_Diana,_

_Sorry there wasn't any food in the apartment. Thought you might like some biscuits the Mrs. made this morning._

_As far as what I said last night about making you work for it, I could use some help around the bar and my wife is looking to hire some part-time help at her bookstore. If you're interested, either or both jobs are yours, as is the apartment, for as long as you want._

_Hope you slept well._

_Steve and Gail_

She immediately went to the older couple's house to thank them for their unbelievable generosity and kindness to find that nobody was home—only an elderly hound dog that barely lifted his head as she peered through the windows. Having nothing else to do, she spent the morning wandering the small town and nibbling on Gail's biscuits before finally discovering a small grouping of stores. She was able to find some clothes and obligatory bathroom items.

She took up all three offers—the jobs and the apartment—and spent the next few days wondering if she was simply taking a break for a while or actually building something that could turn into a new life for herself. She could have contacted the Watchtower and tried to identify herself. She could have tried to make her way back to Gotham and seek out that heartless son of a bitch. She could have… but she didn't want to. It was as if that shotgun butt to her head had knocked that entire life into the back of her mind and the new leather boots she was wearing kept it there.

By the time she was closing the bar with Steve she had finally gone an entire day without even thinking about the Justice Lords, Bruce Wayne or what it felt like to rule a planet.

She locked the front door of the bar and pulled the chain to turn off the neon "OPEN" sign.

"One more beer before you call it a night Diana?"

"Aw, Steve. You even have to ask?" She said with a smile. The smile came easy and naturally, which thrilled her and gave her peace at the same time.

She wasn't Wonder Woman any more. She wasn't Justice Lord Diana anymore she was just Diana, and amazingly enough, she had finally figured out how to live a day without hate and it felt like coming home.

* * *

He had only brought her two magazines to read: one on science and technology, the other—a homemaker's journal. Neither one held her interest for very long.

She felt weak and slow. Her wings felt heavy, almost foreign now. To her eyes, everything around her was a bland, colorless gray. The food all tasted the same. And it had only been a week in her cell.

Exist.

That's all she wanted to do now; exist. She didn't waste her limited energy on plotting or regretting. She had given up on ambition. She had no hope and nothing to look forward to. She just wanted to exist. No responsibilities. No pressures. No one depending on her. She simply wanted to become invisible.

He had come by her cell and tested her at times. He threw off-handed accusations of her alleged scheming. He dropped insults on occasion. He challenged her with questions of her intentions and with hypothetical situations. The conversations were terse. Always terse. But every word was significant and not a syllable was wasted. Even though it broke up the monotony, his visits always seemed to be worse than the nothingness she endured; she just wanted to be left alone to simply fade away.

Then one day, after not seeing him for what seemed like a small eternity, the doors opened.

Literally.

She was sitting in the cell's only chair, trying in vain to find anything in either of the magazines that she could consider interesting. The small mechanical sounds rattled at the edge of the cell walls, the humming of the electromagnetic coils stopped and the Plexiglas slid open smoothly and that was that.

She looked out through the empty darkness at the cold cave wall just a few meters past the opening. Nothing moved. Nobody came. No other sounds were heard.

With uncertainty tainting her intentions, she leaned forward and waited. Then she stood up.

Nothing.

She took a few steps, but stopped at the edge of her cell.

Nothing.

Her first gingerly taken step outside of her cell was uneventful, as was the second. A few more paces and she could see more clearly where she truly was. She looked back at her cell with a tad of longing as part of her just wanted to go back in there and fade away, but despite this feeling, this need, she pressed on.

Even though she was consumed in darkness, her eyes adjusted quickly enough and the ambient light from her cell allowed her to see. The training arena of the Batcave was immense—a dead-ended cavern with a vaulted ceiling at least twenty meters high, riddled with stalactites. The natural stone flooring had been covered with mostly concrete and the edges of the cavern were lined with various targets and stacks of equipment used for whatever training the Batclan needed.

Turning, she saw the concrete floor gave way to a padded surface with various markings. She deduced that this must be the sparring portion of the arena. On the side were some stainless steel benches and a few cabinets. A pair of heavy bags hung from their supports and other humanoid-shaped targets were neatly stored in their respective places. The far wall was man-made. It looked like cinder blocks, perhaps, with a large overhead garage-style door as well as a normal passage door.

She could see that the five individual cells were placed almost back-to-back, pointing outward such that no one prisoner could see another, nor could anybody see the doorway out. He could have entered and walked around to the front of any cell without being seen by anybody else.

There were various vents and cables dangling from the ceiling to each cell in turn, feeding fresh air, water and power. The setup was impressive and meticulous, but that didn't surprise her much.

She slowly, carefully made her way around to the front of each cell. Two were empty. Superman seemed to be asleep and J'onn was sitting motionless on the floor – presumably meditating.

Security cameras were conspicuously placed all over and she eyed them with concern. Slowly, alertly, she made her way over the padded floor of the sparring area and to the exit. She reached for the doorknob, but stopped herself just inches away and listened.

Still nothing.

Delicately, silently she opened the door. The rest of the cave was just as dim and gloomy as the training arena had been. To her left, the bluish glow of computer monitors cast a silhouette of the Dark Knight in his chair. She watched the back of his head and waited.

Nothing.

She noticed some monitors to his right cycling through the views of the holding cells. Clearly he had seen her… or at least could have seen her. She took a couple soft steps across the catwalk towards him.

Nothing.

He typed a few commands and the main screen cycled through countless lines of data and diagrams.

She kept creeping towards him.

She felt no animosity. She had no plots. She wasn't going to attack. She just didn't understand how she found herself freed from her captivity or how he hadn't done anything about it.

She got within a dozen feet of him or so and he typed a few more commands and the screens went dark. Some lights overhead slowly rose to a comfortable level. He swiveled in his chair to face her as if he'd been expecting her all along. He said nothing.

"What's… going on here?" she asked, her voice weighted with ample curiosity.

He took a few seconds to stare her down before he moved. His right hand produced a necklace.

"Put this on."

Bewildered and uncertain, she gingerly reached up and took what he offered, delicately fingering the intricate azure stone dangling from the gold chain.

"What's this for?" she asked, her confusion doubling.

"_Put it on,"_ he enunciated.

She checked his face for any signs of what to expect, but predictably found the obligatory blank Batface.

Having nothing to lose, she dropped her chin and looped the necklace over her head, straightened up and flipped her auburn hair out of its way. She looked down to see how the iridescent blue stone rested against her skin.

"What's this…" she started asking but stopped suddenly as her breath was stolen from her lungs. Her body was awash in a tingling rush and a soft glow grew behind her. With a sudden eruption of white noise, the new sensations and illuminations dissolved. She found herself standing upright more comfortably, as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Then she noticed the void behind her.

Her wings were gone.

She twisted one way, then the other, but couldn't find anything. Abrupt realization blasted into her mind and her hand flew up to rip the pendant off her neck.

"Don't," he warned with some urgency, raising a hand. "There's nothing wrong. It's magic."

Her hand lowered as she eyed him suspiciously, her expression begging for more explanation.

"I had a friend of mine fashion that charm specifically for you. It creates a pocket dimension and keeps only your wings hidden there. You still have them, but while you're wearing that, you won't feel them or see them… and neither will anybody else. To us, you look as human as… well, the rest of us."

"Why would you…" she began as she twisted her arm behind herself to feel where her wings should have been mounted to her back.

"Because I believe you don't belong in a cage."

* * *

Beta World…

The sun continued to darken. For all intents and purposes, the entire Earth was engulfed in night. It gave the perfect cover for Lord Batman to shoot his grapple up to the Batwing, silently hovering over Wayne Tower. He ascended up, swung himself into the cockpit, strapped in and raced away from the city.

"Batman to Watchtower!"

Silence.

'_The Javelin would be faster,'_ he thought as he throttled up to supersonic speeds. _'What I wouldn't give to have some teleporters up there right now!'_

He tried the radio again.

"Batman to Watchtower!"

"Watchtower," Wonder Woman responded. "Go ahead, Batman."

'_Damn! It had to be her, didn't it?'_

"Report!" he barked.

"We've had some problems up here," she explained. "We're working on a solution…"

She continued to fill him in on the entire affair with the Black Diamond. She told him of the snake-like beings that infused themselves within the gem. She told him how a Special Forces soldier found it and was possessed, how that led to a general, then herself and Green Lantern and eventually all those within the League... except Flash… and he had been the one to save them all.

When she finally completed her story, he found himself somewhat speechless.

"Green Lantern and Flash are attempting to use the Javelin's wormhole generator to reverse what's happening to the sun."

"They're _what?!_"

"Lantern is going to create a moving pathway and Flash is going to speed along…"

"No," he interrupted harshly. "There's got to be a better way."

"We don't have time," she declared. "The Javelin is virtually destroyed and not even Superman can fly fast enough for the wormhole generator to work properly."

"But if Flash…" he cut himself off.

"It _is_ dangerous, Batman, but J'onn says it's the only way."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.

She paused. For some reason her silence made him uncomfortable.

"No."

"Batman out," he said quickly and killed the transmission before she could respond. He throttled the jet down and sighed deeply as his head sank back against the seat.

He was worried.

'_That kid better not die.'_

He turned the jet around, back towards Gotham. There was no telling how long his city would be plagued with the unnatural darkness and he knew full well that certain corners were in real danger of breaking out into an all-out riot in situations like these. He flexed his hands on the controls and got his mind ready for some impromptu peacekeeping. He switched on the police scanner and waited for the inevitable reports.

As he sat listening, his mind replayed the story that Diana had told him.

_She_ had been possessed, too.

His concern for Flash had overridden the initial sinking feeling when she nonchalantly dropped that little tidbit. But with a few moments to reflect, he pondered at his reaction.

In the few times when he couldn't avoid contact with this world's Wonder Woman, he had begun to notice small stirrings in his gut that he once had with his own Diana long, long ago. This Diana hadn't been hardened with the bitter yoke of her tyrannical station. This one hadn't been jaded by the senseless wars and violence that his world once had. Yes, this Diana was a warrior and had seen death and destruction and horrors that few had ever seen, but this world, it seems, had avoided the wayward path towards hell that his own world once traveled. And because of it this Diana was so much like his own used to be…

The longer hair, the smile, the eyes, even her posture had a bright streak of purity that Justice Lord Diana seemed to posses once upon a time. He forced himself to not spend any time dwelling on it. He denied himself any contact with her other than what was absolutely necessary to perpetuate his deception. But even with what little had transacted, he still felt sparks of that old feeling.

He missed the first call on the Police Scanner. The second one snapped his attention back to reality. He turned up the volume, took in the location of the incident and banked his jet towards the Narrows.

By the time he ejected, the sun started getting brighter.

'_Well done, Flash.'_

* * *

Lord Superman's bleary eyes opened to see a large object in his cell and the Dark Knight watching him from the cowardly distance on the other side of the shield.

"What's this?"

"A tanning bed. What does it look like?"

"I know it's a damn tanning bed. What the hell is it in here for?"

"To prove a point to you."

As he sat up, Clark took a second to ponder what Batman meant. It didn't take long for him to figure it out. It wasn't surprising that The Dark Knight would be able to sneak things the size of a full-body tanning bed into his cell while he slept. It also didn't take long for him to convince himself that half of his sleep was probably gas-induced.

"Oh, I get it. You want to show me that I won't be able to get my powers back the same way I did before."

Batman's silence was a simple enough acknowledgment.

"Then again, maybe you've modified it to only put out specific levels and types of radiation so that it won't restore my powers like a normal one would."

"Very good, Clark. But such a simple scam is pretty predictable, isn't it? You know me better than that."

Clark sprang to his feet.

"If I knew the _real_ you, I would have predicted your betrayal and slaughtered you months ago!"

Batman reached for an item on his belt, a second later the Plexiglas door slid open.

Superman took a second to figure out what was going on, but once his mind registered that he finally had access to his new mortal enemy, he lunged. His hands went straight for the throat and grabbed fistfuls of flesh, bone and cowl.

Batman stood stone-still, not even bothering to try and block the attack. He just stared right into the wild, blue eyes that were burning with rage. Finally, he calmly reached up, weaved his hands around Clark's wrists and twisted the larger man into a painful and helpless position of submission on his knees, all without a single grunt of effort.

On the floor, wracked with pain, Clark battled with the notion that he was helpless and had been denied his revenge. He gathered his wits, best he could and tried to fight against the pressure points and torque being applied to his body. Grimacing and straining, he regained his feet, but only just. Before he could even attempt any kind of counter attack, his legs had been swept and his back and head slammed against the cold, concrete floor. A heavy knee landed on his chest, knocking the wind clean out of his lungs.

"Aren't you going to kill me, Clark?" Batman mocked.

Clark could only cough and gag in response.

"Aren't you going to make me pay for my betrayal?"

Clark struggled to find some strength and cohesion. His fist balled up and he swung for whatever tender spot of his antagonist he could find. His clumsy attempts were easily blocked. After the third try, that arm was immobilized, too.

"You're not that man anymore, Clark," Batman said darkly. "Without your powers, you're nothing more than a nuisance. A few years, ago, you might have been significant, even with your powers stripped, but that's because you were somebody then. You had character. Now… I wouldn't give a squirt of piss for you if your head was on fire."

The taunts only fueled Clark's rage more and he thrashed violently under the incapacitating pressure and pain.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" he grounded out.

"Now you're making me mad," Batman declared, his voice dropping to its most sinister tones.

Swiftly, gracefully, the Dark Knight regained his feet and hoisted his captive up with one hand around the neck. He slammed Clark up against a wall and dug his thumb into the pit of his throat next to his Adams Apple. Then he squeezed.

Clark tried ineffectually to punch and beat the gloved hand strangling the life out of him, but each swing of his fists grew weaker than the last. The room grew faint and dark and all sound seemed to fade into loose echoes with no distinction. Before he passed out, the last thing he saw was Batman's blurry face lean in close to his. He barely made out what was said.

"Don't worry Clark. I think I'll kill you next time."

* * *

Still Alpha World…

Javelin 3 sat within the recesses of the Batcave, normally where the Batwing would have been. Justice League Batman was the only one who knew it was there, as the rest of the staff on board the Watchtower had been told that the other five Justice Lords—the metas—had been called away to investigate an interplanetary crisis that could spill over into their territory. It was a simple enough scheme and deep-space missions like this weren't unheard of. But trying to keep five of the six off world for a prolonged period of time would raise a lot of questions before too long. That's where Batman's "Investigation" of the Superman androids that were damaged by the Justice League intruders would help out.

The modified androids were perfect. They had the ability to act independently, but also were tied into the Batcave's main computers, such that Batman could control what any one of them said or did, should he have to. He moved them up into the Javelin cockpit and turned them on.

It didn't take long to modify the communications hardware on the Javelin to send signals on a new encryption and frequency – one that only a very specific satellite could receive.

All the components were now in place: the javelin "set", the android actors, the transmitter in the attic of Wayne Manor, the communications relay satellite that Katma Tui placed in deep-space orbit. The Watchtower technicians would have no indication at all that the signal they were receiving was entirely fake. They'd have no clue that they weren't talking to the real Justice Lords.

"We're reading you, sir," the officer in charge responded to "Superman's" hail.

"We've encountered minor resistance near Markalonis VI. The insurrection has been subdued but some locals are injured. J'onn reports that their physiology is very similar to Martian anatomy. We are going to assist them with some medical supplies and rations."

The Superman android reached for buttons on the console as the Hawkgirl and Wonder Woman androids could be seen in the background working on packing some equipment.

"I've just sent a list of files," the Superman Android continued, "and databases that are stored in the secured sections of the watchtower systems, along with half of an access code. These files contain details on Martian physiology, medicines and other vital information."

"Yes, sir," the officer replied. "We're receiving them now… Uh, sir… these files are in lock-down. Nobody can access them without the system knowing. Standard protocol won't allow their release unless two reigning members-"

"I know that, you fool!" Superman interrupted. "That's why I sent half of the access code. You'll have to contact Batman for the other half. Then and only then will those files be available. Once they are, please transmit them to us. Superman out."

Batman cut the transmission. The androids and the Javelin mock-up powered down. Being Batman, he always had the others' access codes, but the security in the Watchtower systems was so tight that even he couldn't crack it without some kind of detection—a security feature to protect against a rogue Justice Lord or other such intruder. He needed a scheme like this to avoid suspicion—about his need for the files as well as his deception of the Justice Lords' true situation.

Within five minutes, his communications alert blinked on his Batcave computer console. He answered it gruffly and did his best to sound impatient and agitated. After the unfortunate sergeant on the watchtower stammered out the request, he barked his acknowledgment and commanded that they teleport him up. A few more moments after that, the files were unlocked and being transmitted into deep space, where his counterfeit relay satellite re-encrypted them and sent them to the computers deep beneath Wayne Manor.

Armed with this new information, maybe he could find some way to help his ailing captive.

* * *

Shayera never realized how cold it was in November. She normally liked the cold. The crisp air flushing through her feathers as she soared through the upper atmosphere was always a welcome feeling to her. But now, with her powers stripped and her wings effectively amputated, the November cold wasn't refreshing or exhilarating. It was just cold.

She had found a few blankets and wrapped them around herself as she tried to get comfortable in a chaise lounge chair on one of the many spacious balconies on the eastern façade of Wayne Manor. She made herself comfortable and opened her book. The mid-day sun wasn't very much relief, but at least the blue of the sky and the crash of the ocean waves hundreds of feet below the distant cliffs were better than that damn cell.

After being released, Bruce had simply let her go and turned back to his work. She wandered around the Batcave and looked at all the new equipment that she hadn't seen before. She stared for a long time at the trans-dimensional portal that seemed to be such a major component to all the pain in her life. She just meandered silently, not touching anything.

She also tried to steal glances and looks at the enigma of a man in the black and gray costume. He had been her captor. He had verbally assaulted her—accusing her of being a conniving and vengeful schemer. Yet, here he was, now… setting her free with hardly a word or any reason why. Trusting her. Allowing her to roam freely though his sanctum.

She just couldn't figure it out.

"Why, Bruce?"

"I told you," he replied, not missing a beat.

"No, Bruce. _Why?_"

'_Why did you betray us?'_

He stopped his work; half turned his head in her general direction and unloaded his answer.

"Somewhere along the way we got off track. We have to fix it. We have to get this world back to where it's _supposed_ to be."

The insecure part of her finally woke up and stirred anger and emotion within a corner of her heart.

'_HE'S the one betrayed us! Who the hell is HE to say what's right?'_

But just as quickly as those feelings of hurt and mistrust bubbled up, another part of her soothed them back down.

'_But he IS right. The truth is the truth, no matter who speaks it.'_

She stood for a long time… behind him… within attacking distance. If she had her mace, it would be so easy to make him pay for what had happened to her and her colleagues. But she didn't have her mace. Even if she did, without her strength she was no match for him. All she could do was ponder.

Before long, she simply shut down her mind and fell back into her unthinking, uncaring existence mode. She slowly, mechanically found a chair near him and sat down, her soft sigh causing him to respond.

"Shayera," he said in Bruce's voice, looking right at her. "We've done a lot of good here. There's order where there used to be chaos. Before we took control, the world was speeding headlong towards hell. We stopped that. There's discipline and a sense of fairness around the world. But there's also a complete loss of character and individuality. The people of the world have been stifled of their creativity and ambition because we decided to do the thinking for them. We cannot declare what's right for them anymore. We brought Earth back to where it needs to be—to give it a fresh start. Now it's time to let the people decide for themselves."

"John and I talked about this countless times before," Shayera began despondently. "What if the people's choices bring the planet right back down that same path? All this work will have been for nothing."

"You're right. So we have to do it now before the misery of the past is forgotten. If we allow this to continue for too long, the world will become nothing more than a giant, institutionalized ant colony. The next generation won't know the dangers of what happened in the past. And as you know, those ignorant of history are destined to repeat it."

Her green eyes focused on the imaginary points between them as she considered his words. Still, he continued.

"It took our iron fist to rip the corruption out of the governments, to purge the unethical out of corporate boardrooms. It's not something new… other tyrannical governments throughout history started the exact same way. What's different about us is that we recognized it before it's too late. There's a growing portion of the populace that's already feeling the strains of rebellion."

"I've read about George Washington," she said with half a smile. "One of the most impressive things he did was to willingly give up power when it was still firmly in his grasp."

"Exactly. We have to do the same or risk losing all that we've gained."

She nodded just as he produced a novel from the side of his desk.

"1984?" she asked. "Never heard of it."

"Why don't you go upstairs and find yourself a nice comfortable spot. It's a good read."

* * *

Lord Batman finished entering his hourly readings into the log and took a deep breath. Only half an hour to go before Wonder Woman relieved him of Monitor Duty.

He'd have to make a quick, silent, cold and cynical exit.

He cycled a few monitors to catch some news coverage of some potential riots in Los Angeles when the doors swished open behind him. He heard the telltale clacking of the red boots that he knew so well. She was early.

'_Damn.'_

"Good evening, Batman," she said with a very platonic and harmless tone. There was something about it that caught his attention, though.

"Princess."

He didn't take his eyes from the monitors, but caught the soft scent of jasmine drifting through the room as she took the seat to his right.

"Anything to report?" she asked simply.

'_Why is she here?'_

"Not until you relieve me in 27 minutes."

"Oh, well, I didn't have anything to do, so I thought I'd drop by early. We haven't had a chance to talk in… wow, how long has it been since we had a good talk?"

He slowly turned to freeze her with his best "Are you kidding me?" glare. It didn't seem to work entirely.

"Ah, yes! I remember! We've _never_ had a good talk!"

His jaw shifted and his lips tightened slightly. She only smirked in response, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow gently rising.

He turned back towards the monitors and did his best to ignore her. She didn't buy it.

"Going to Paris any time soon?" she asked with a straight voice, but he could see her red lips stretch into a sly grin.

He typed a few commands and hoped that he could find a tornado or something for her to deal with.

'_Fine time to have a slow news day!'_

"Did you get a chance to read the reports about the Black Diamond?"

"Yes."

"And?"

He sighed and turned to face her. Maybe a little rudeness would work…

"And what?"

"What's your opinion on…"

"If you've got nothing else to do," he interrupted her, "then perhaps you could just relieve me early. I have a lot of work to deal with."

Judging from her expression, it was clear that she was expecting that reaction from him sooner or later. She agreed to take over the watch early and they commenced a formal turnover before he logged out of the system and she logged in.

He didn't bother saying 'goodbye' as he whisked towards the door. Before he could leave, however, she caught him with one last simple request.

"Batman, before you leave, may I ask you a question?"

He stopped and half-turned his face over his shoulder, but said nothing.

"How did you feel when your Flash died?"

* * *

**AN: Didn't take as long to get this one out as the last one did, but still too long for my liking. I'm going to try to step things up, but I still have to beg for your patience.**

**AN: Yeah, I like reviews as much as the next guy. Review, flame, send PM, whatever. I like to know that you're seeing in your mind what I'm seeing in mine. It lets me know if I'm doing a good job or not. (not to mention how it gives me good feedback on whether or not you like the story!)**

I try to reply to all reviews and emails, etc. If I can't reply directly, I'll probably tack on a response in subsequent chapters. Like this:

ReadingCat: I'm glad you like this so far. I hope I won't keep you waiting too long for the next installment.


	7. Chapter 7: Growth

**Disclaimer: DC owns all these characters as far as I know. No profit is gained by this fic.**

**Mega Huge thanks to Hepburn on this one. She really came through for me with some awesome ideas and some fine-tooth-combing on my mistakes. Also, thanks to GeekyBMWWFan as well. She suggested I change ONE word and the results are incredible. Between these two and Kipling_Nori... what more could a guy ask? (BTW... if you like my stuff, then I'm sure you'll be blow away by their work!)**

**This story is a sequel of sorts to "A Better World". There are spoilers. It is also a companion piece to another story of mine; The Powers That Be (which is a prequel to "A Better World"), but I'm going to try to write it so you don't have to read that one. We'll see how it goes.**

**SPOILER ALERT: a few accounts from "Eclipse" and "The Brave and The Bold" in this one.**

* * *

Eternal 7: Growth

Justice Lord Batman's voice crackled over the inter-dimensional transmitter.

"_Diana knows."_

Justice League Batman didn't know if he had heard his counterpart correctly, but the sinking feeling in his gut suggested that he did. Still, even though his nature rarely allowed for it, he harbored the slim _hope_ that he had heard wrong.

"Knows what?"

The pause was short, but still long enough to be annoying. He heard Lord Batman draw in a deep breath before he answered.

"_She knows that I'm not you."_

Sitting at his computer consoles, his ramen noodles long-since gone cold, League Batman dropped his head into his gloved hand. The sinking feeling sank a little further.

He had thought of the eventuality that their secret would be uncovered—of course. They both had. And although neither Batman had said so, they both guessed that if anybody would figure it out, it would be Diana.

It was logical that J'onn's telepathy and Superman's other senses would be dangerous. It was a good bet that Shayera might catch some small detail that the others would miss. The observational prowess of those three was somewhat expected but Diana was still very much a mystery; a very intriguing, frustrating, refreshing, beautiful and seductive mystery.

His biggest failing, however, was not in **not** accounting for her wisdom; it was in his not actually formulating a plan to deal with it.

"Did she actually call you out?"

"_Yes. She asked me how I felt when _**my**_ Flash died."_

"Then what?"

League Batman sat and absorbed the story…

"_How did you feel when your Flash died?"_

_Had he been anybody but Batman, his body language would have given it away that very second. As it was, however, he had the reins on his emotions and reactions. He turned to face her._

"**WHAT**_ are you talking about?"_

_She wasn't fazed at all. She just sat in her chair, regally, her fine legs crossed, her face donning an expression of confidence… verging on smugness._

"_In _**your**_ world… the _**Justice Lord's**_ world… How did you feel when your President Luthor murdered your Flash?"_

_He reached for a bat-a-rang, an action he could pull in his sleep without anybody noticing, only this time, he deliberately made sure that it was obvious he was doing so. Immediately after, he activated his com link._

"_J'onn, Batman. We may have an intruder in the Monitor Womb."_

_She showed a faint hint of surprise—not so much at his actions, but at his boldness in continuing his deception._

"_Are you sure you want to do that?" she asked, a knowing smile spreading on her beautiful face. "After all, you're the only intruder here… technically speaking."_

_The stare down continued. She had the upper hand and looked like she knew it._

_He was almost at a loss for words, not to mention actions. She was right, after all, and with her stubborn streak as wide as his, she'd never be convinced otherwise. All he could do was try to get her to question her own conclusions._

"_You think that I'm the Justice Lord Batman?" he asked, although it sounded more like a statement._

"_I _**know**_that you are."_

"_What makes you say that?"_

_She pleasantly began her ticking off her list while her disarming blue eyes wandered with her reasoning. Her hands became a little more animated as if she were actually holding her points for display._

_He watched and listened, trying to mentally lock down each detail and formulate a counter. _

"_Well to begin with, you're not as rude or arrogant as you were before we dealt with the Justice Lords, but despite your softer demeanor, you're even more chronically absent – to the point of seeming neglectful of your duties. However, in reviewing your logs and League activities, you're reporting shows that you're as diligent as ever. This suggests that you're avoiding personal contact with the rest of us, but you're trying to make it look like you're not._

_He was grateful for her brief pause so he could continue formulating some form of defense. He didn't bother saying anything as it was painfully obvious she had much, much more to say._

" _Secondly, Your attitude towards most of us doesn't seem to be very different (for the times that you're actually here and interacting with us), however, you've missed plenty of opportunities to get on Flash's case for some of his more obvious transgressions. The Batman _**I**_ know would never pass up a chance to make Flash cringe!"_

_He had tried to keep his attitude towards Flash as neutral as possible. As she talked, he considered that maybe neutrality was almost as bad as acting unnaturally. He also realized that, since he was also in on the secret, she may very well be observant enough to have seen a change in Flash, if there was one._

_He was able to hide his slightly nervous swallow._

"_Then you even asked if there was anything you could do to help during the Black Heart incident the other day. Batman wouldn't ask… that was just too much out of character for you… even in a dire situation like that. Now, I know that Gotham is _**always**_ your top priority, so clearly you were weighing the options of seeing to your city or potentially helping to save the entire planet. But the _**way**_ you asked… There was more on your mind than Gotham or Earth. You were concerned about Flash's safety."_

_He tried to keep his body language stone cold and solid. He tried to keep his expression empty. He wasn't sure if he was succeeding._

_As if to make it even harder for him to remain focused, she slowly uncrossed her legs, stood up and sauntered his way, her divine hips swaying as she did. The long hair, the uniform, the look in her eyes—the way they looked _into_ him rather than at him… things his own Diana used to be and do, long ago when they were still passionately in love. She laid out her last argument with a melodic and lingering voice._

"_There are a few other small details here and there that are somewhat intangible, but my instincts tell me that they are significant."_

_She was within a few paces when her voice dropped to a determined and almost sultry tone._

"_But the _**real**_ thing that tipped me off…"_

_She leaned in close to him—mere inches away from the side of his face. He could _feel_ the heat from her body and her natural fragrance assaulted him again – as it once used to._

_She took a slow draw in through her fine nose._

"… _You don't smell like my Batman."_

_That got a reaction out of him._

_He stepped back half a pace and looked into her satisfied and cocky eyes._

_He had indeed been caught. The one fact he was able to cling to… the one thing that told him that he wasn't in any danger was the fact that she wasn't actually upset about it. Either she didn't fully believe it herself, or if she did, she didn't have any instinct tell her that he was dangerous – and clearly she had no notion that the Justice League Batman had met with foul play. Otherwise she would have attacked him on sight._

_No, there was wiggle room in this confrontation._

_Unfortunately, she had given him very few avenues for rebuttal. The little details, one-by-one could be countered in their part, but she was right in that, when taken as a whole, they all displayed the truth. He'd have to remove the big picture and deconstruct those details one at a time, if he could. It was all he could try, so he mounted his high horse of indignation and responded calmly to her._

"_First of all, I don't need to justify my motives or actions to _**anyone**,_ Princess. Not even you. However, since you seem so hell-bent on proving that I'm somebody I'm not, let me point out how each of your points… while inspired… are painfully and laughably misguided."_

_She crossed her arms and her face blossomed into an amused smile at the softly veiled belligerence of his challenge. She didn't back away from him, nor did he back away from her. They were standing so close—so intimately close, he had to concentrate to keep his mind straight._

"_You say you've seen my reports and logs within the League. What you _**haven't**_ seen is the amount of time I've had to spend _**outside**_ of Gotham to cover some cases I'm working on… not to mention the fact that I'm _**still**_ cleaning up some of the peripheral mess that the Justice Lords left behind."_

_He knew from Bruce Wayne Beta's personal notes about the Kasnian Rail Gun incident that it was fairly certain she knew Batman's true identity, but he didn't bother acknowledging that or pointing out how the commuter rail system in Metropolis was in contracts with that city's branch of Wayne Enterprises. And since the battle between the Justice Lords and Doomsday destroyed one of the more heavily used lines, there was a lot of work to do._

"_And speaking of the Justice Lords… it's all too clear, now more than ever, what could happen if the six of you aren't kept in check. That's part of my job here, Princess. That's why I carry that Kryptonite...among other things. So don't be surprised if your instincts tell you that I'm an outsider now… I'm _**trying**_ to be. Those other people weren't kept in line and their whole planet suffered because of it."_

_He saw her eyes shift as if she were contemplating that possibility. He took a moment to pause, making the deliberate effort to not let his personal feelings on that particular subject bleed through._

"_As for my scent… could the change in my homeopathic medicines cause my body's hormones to shift? Is there a hint of Arnica in what you smell? Is_** that**_ the difference you're talking about? Perhaps your olfactory senses aren't as tuned as you thought, Princess."_

_Her eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. Doubt was clearly forcing its way into her brain. It helped him prepare for the dangerous bluff he was about to play…_

"_As far as Flash goes… has it ever occurred to you that maybe _**he's**_ the one that's different since the incident with the Justice Lords? I've noticed that he seems to understand his significance within the League now more than ever. Perhaps he's finally growing up. Not to mention how mature he'd have to be to face _**all five**_** of you**__ alone up here during the Black Heart incident."_

_As if on cue, Flash blasted into the room with a soft breeze and a trademark grin._

"_Hey guys! Did somebody call for J'onn? He's…"_

_The young hero stopped when he noticed the other two hadn't acknowledged his arrival, nor had they taken their stubborn eyes off one another._

"_Uh…what's goin' on?" he asked with a touch of true concern. "Don't tell me you found another Black Heart, 'cause that whole thing still gives me the willies… Is everything OK?"_

"_I'm not sure, Flash," Diana said with a slight widening of her grin, a plan of attack clearly formulating in her mind. "I think Batman may be a little out of sorts… that he is… not _**himself**_ per se..."_

_Flash turned to face him with a hint of a smile on his face._

"_Not feeling well, Bats?" he asked. Upon getting a minor Batglare, his face fell as expected, but then it fell slightly more with a hidden realization that there may be something deeper going on… and he stole a glance at Wonder Woman._

"_I'm fine," Batman finally said._

"_How's your memory?" Diana asked innocently enough._

_Flash stepped around to stand behind Wonder Woman and join in the stare-down against the Dark Knight._

_Batman didn't answer._

"_Let's see…" Diana said dramatically, tapping her chin with a finger. "In Gorilla City… what cheek did you kiss me on after Superman stopped that missile?"_

" _Superman _**didn't**_ stop that missile, _**you**_ did. And I didn't kiss you, you kissed me."_

"_Yes, but on which cheek."_

_The Batglare intensified._

"_I don't have time for this," he growled, but didn't turn to leave._

_She responded by arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow_

_He sighed._

"_The right," he said as if bored._

_Not many people would have seen the slight deflation of her self-satisfied expression, but he did. He had no illusions that he had changed her mind, but he had at least succeeded in making her second guess her deductions._

"_Well," she concluded, trying a little too hard to make it look like she was still sure of herself. "I'm glad that your memory is sound, Batman. Perhaps we could continue this conversation later. In the mean time, I hope that the_ **Batman we all know and love**_ stays _**safe**_ and vigilant."_

_Her hidden message was loud and clear. She wanted him to know that she still believed that he was the Justice Lord Batman and that the real Batman had better not be in any danger. In the split second before he stormed out of the room, he had half considered responding, but realized that anything he said would either be an admission to her truth or a further fruitless denial – neither of which would help the situation. He made it to the Batwing silently and without running into anybody else._

"So," League Batman asked when the story was over, "she still believes that you're not me?"

"_It would seem so."_

There was a deep, thoughtful pause.

"Did she really call me _her_ Batman?"

"Yes."

Another pause.

"How did you know about Gorilla City?"

"_You wrote about it in your report,"_ Lord Batman responded over the transmitter. _"Even the fact that she kissed you."_

"But I didn't specify where. Don't tell me you guessed."

"_No. But Flash was standing behind her. He poked his tongue into his right cheek and she didn't see it."_

Batman Beta sat back in his chair, half smiling. Shayera must have told him…

'_Leave it to Wally…'_

* * *

Shayera stormed her way through the ghostly forms of linen-covered furniture and made her way towards the Justice Lord's Batcave entrance. She knew he was there. With a determined gait, she marched down the stairs and found him predictably at work at his computer consoles.

"A GOOD READ?!" she accused him, tossing back the copy of George Orwell's "1984". "It's a disgusting story of a sick and corrupt world of…"

"You seem upset," he said calmly, interrupting her.

"You're damn right I'm upset. That story is nothing more than a…"

"It must have been written well if it got you so riled up like that," he interrupted again.

She shut her mouth and looked off to the side as she considered that truth. She felt the weight of his stare and although his face was very neutral, his expression seemed to hold a degree of amusement that she couldn't place.

He had a point.

"Ok, you're right; it got to me. I mean… what kind of twisted mind could come up with _half_ the things in that book? "

"Orwell was gifted in a sense. Keep in mind, that novel was published in 1949… thirty-five years BEFORE it was to have taken place. Remind yourself of the technological state of this planet at the time, not to mention the social attitudes. He predicted a lot of things that actually happened, in many ways."

"Yeah, but…"

"And he also neatly summarized the way the REAL world could have ended up if we were brought down by other forces."

She turned and leaned against the desktop as he spoke. Many times over the past few years she had considered how a rebellion could challenge the Justice Lords and attempt to restore the world to the previous status quo. She had never given any thought to an overthrow of their authority by an organization that wanted to take the world even FURTHER into that hell.

"It's all in the hearts and minds of the people," she said softly, half to herself.

"That's right," he agreed kindly.

There was a comfortable pause as she continued to ponder how the whole of Earth's societies could be slowly driven into absolute submission over the course of ten, twenty, maybe thirty years. The memories of the past could be easily stripped and warped. The world could become nothing more than the playground for those in perpetual power and the masses would stay their unknowing, dependant slaves.

"Inequalities of mind and body are so established by God Almighty, in his constitution of human nature, that no art or policy can ever plane them down to a level."

She did a double take and shot him a look.

"Come again?"

"That's a quote from John Adams. While he was a champion of making sure that, legally, all men were created equal, he also recognized that in many situations, there were people that were better than others at certain things."

"What's your point?"

"The world will always need leaders and have followers. However, there must be a system of checks and balances such that the leaders do not become corrupt and the followers do not become complacent in their lives. There also needs to be a path for people to traverse from one station to any that their abilities can take them. They can't be pigeon-holed or repressed."

She arched her eyebrows as she nodded and looked off into the darkness of the cave, drawing a breath through her nose.

"I think I see what you're getting at," she sighed. "There is an equilibrium in this human society. Somehow, before we came around, the peoples of this world had strayed off track. We corrected that course, but at the risk of _overcorrecting_ and making everything stray off track the in the opposite direction. We need to steady things out before the pendulum swings too far the other way."

"That's right," he said with a slight nod. "It was a spring cleaning. Now it's time to put the mops away and get back to living."

"You really think that?" she asked, studying him intently.

"Yes, I do," he replied confidently.

They continued to gaze at one another for a few seconds before he changed the course of the conversation.

"But a bell can't be un-rung. We did what we did and _we_ are the ones that have to prevent it from overcorrecting. There is and always will be evil in this world that the people can't resist on their own. This world will _need_ some form of organization like ours… like ours _used to_ be. So, we can't disband, but if we stay the way we are, we run the risk of repeating our mistakes."

"What are you saying? The Justice Lords need to be _reformed?_" she demanded, the accusation in her voice gaining in strength.

"Not exactly. I'm saying the Justice Lords need to be _destroyed._ The Justice _League_ must be born again."

* * *

Flash zipped into the Monitor Womb to find Batman cycling through monitor after monitor. He waited a few seconds and when it became obvious that the secret glove signal wasn't going to be given, he knew that he was still dealing with that _other_ Batman. He continued a little more coldly.

"What's going on?"

"Superman, Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl are going to interrogate a powerful sorcerer named Dr. Fate. It seems that there may be some kind of inter-dimensional rift occurring and he, Aquaman and Solomon Grundy might be the cause of it."

"Whoa… that sounds pretty bad."

He got no answer.

"Do they need help?" Flash asked innocently enough.

"No," Lord Batman replied quickly. Then, after a short pause added: "Besides, they took the Javelin and I'm not going to let you fly the Batwing, so don't bother asking."

Flash sighed from the mixture of disappointment and impending boredom brewing in his gut. He wasn't very comfortable being around this visitor as it was, but being stuck alone in the Watchtower with him until who-knows-when was verging on ridiculous. Still, ever the optimist, he found it in his heart that perhaps a little alone, one-on-one time with him might not be a bad thing.

"So," he tried after a few moments. "You think Diana still believes you're not the real Batman?"

He wasn't prepared for the Batglare he got, but he quickly caught himself and stammered out a retraction.

"I mean… OUR Batman."

"Yes."

"So, what's your plan to prove otherwise to her?"

"I can't. She's too smart and too stubborn to be convinced otherwise."

"So you're just going to let her keep thinking that…"

"I'm not going to do anything," Batman interrupted. "Soon I'm going to go back to my own world and _the real Batman_ is going to have to deal with her."

"Back so soon? I didn't think that the Justice Lords would be…"

"They're not," he interrupted again. "But he and I are going to switch places again to make sure that everything's going as planned."

Wally felt the growing tingle of insecurity as the imposter turned and eyed him critically.

"Don't tell me that he didn't tell you that."

"Well," Flash stammered, "He did say that you'd be in touch with each other and that sort of thing."

The Bat slowly turned his head back towards the monitors, but the air was still thick with a degree of tension. No matter how he tried to analyze things, Flash just couldn't find a way to make himself trust this Batman. Not that he ever had much warmth or devotion to his own Batman. But knowing what this person was capable of and had done to his own world, Flash was even more on edge than normal.

"OK, then," he tried after a few seconds. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

Before he blasted out of the room, Lord Batman dropped a most unexpected line on him.

"Flash… thanks. Thanks for helping me out with Diana the other day."

Flash stood and stared stupidly at the black mask more than at the man wearing it. It seemed that there was more to say, but nothing else ever came. He couldn't remember if his own Batman had ever thanked him for anything. There was sincerity in his voice; a deep, truthful level of emotion that Flash had rarely seen from somebody talking about something so trivial. He just nodded and turned to leave, but he didn't speed off like he had originally intended to, he just walked away slowly deep in thought.

The door swooshed shut behind him and his face fell in realization when something rather profound occurred to him. He stopped dead in his tracks and half-turned back towards the Monitor Womb.

'_He wasn't thanking me for that at all. He was thanking his OWN Flash… for everything he never got a chance to.'_

* * *

"It doesn't _feel…_" Lord Hawkgirl stopped herself midsentence and started laughing hysterically, her squeaky high-pitched voice eventually sliding down to normal octaves.

She took another breath from the helium balloon that Batman had given to her as a demonstration of the differences between Earth's atmosphere and that of Mars.

"Pressure, gaseous content, all that," he continued with his explanation. "On Mars, Martians didn't sound odd to each other. And with their normal shape-shifting abilities, it was very easy for J'onn to adjust to communicating in our atmosphere. His could change his ears to handle the different frequency ranges. His vocal chords adjusted to produce sounds that humans were used to. Even the shape of his mouth, throat and tongue had slight modifications to make the kind of words that we use every day."

Hawkgirl continued to make chipmunk sounds until the balloon was empty. She listened to Batman's explanation and watched the data pour from one screen to the next, but she was distracted by how good it felt to laugh again after so long. She couldn't remember the last time her face had a reason to smile.

"Because the Power Disrupter has stripped J'onn of his shape-shifting abilities, he can no longer survive properly in our atmosphere, nor can he hear or say things the way he used to. So, I've devised a translator of sorts. It converts our voices to something more in tune with his aural capacity and conversely modifies the frequency of his voice to things that we can listen to."

"Well, J'onn's not dumb and that _thing_ didn't strip him of his knowledge," Shayera observed. "He'll still understand English."

"True, but when he tries to speak it, it may not sound intelligible. It may take some time before he can train his mouth to make the right sounds. Until then, it might sound like he's got a very heavy foreign accent. We'll have to be patient."

With that, the Dark Knight typed in a few more commands. One of the smaller screens to the left showed that the conversion application was on-line and ready. The main screen changed to show a camera angle of J'onn's cell. As he had been for the past several hours, the Manhunter was kneeling on the floor, unmoving.

"J'onn. Can you hear me?" Batman asked slowly.

On the screen the Martian's head snapped up and turned this way and that.

"Djjjee…. DDDJJJJDd…"

Hawkgirl's heart began to melt as she watched her friend struggle with the simple task of forming a single word. To see the powerful being so helpless, so fragile… with very little ability to help him… it was heartbreaking.

"DDjjjjeee…"

It seemed the Martian was excited and frustrated at the same time. He finally took a deep breath and calmed himself. He tried one more time.

"Djjeesss…. Jess… Jess, ayyeee…. Keerrrnn wwwhhhirrr…. Hhhherrr…. Hhhheeyaarrr… juuu."

Sheyera's face bloomed into a smile as she felt a slight welling of happy tears behind her eyes. She looked at Batman's hard profile and caught a small grin on him as well.

"Good. Good, J'onn."

"Whhhurr ahm ayyyeee?"

"You're still in your holding cell," Batman explained slowly. "I have filled it with the closest thing to Martian atmosphere as I can tell. Is it comfortable for you?"

"Djesss. Chank kyu."

Shayera saw Batman take a deep breath. It seemed that he was steeling himself for what he was about to say next.

"J'onn… I'm sorry that I wasn't able to prevent you from losing your vision. I have acquired some files from the Watchtower and I'm researching ways to restore your sight and your abilities, but it will take some time."

The Martian nodded slowly, almost sadly.

"Aayyee tot ju mite haft djj… djjj… dun djat. Ow elst wud ju haft noon tchu fff…fffeeeedj mee ay-corns?"

Batman silently huffed out a slight chuckle. Shayera called him out on it.

"Did he just ask how you knew to feed him acorns?" she asked quietly.

Batman nodded and hit the mute button before answering her.

"According to his notes, acorns from the Red Oak tree are very close to one of the staples of the Martian diet."

He turned the microphone back on.

"J'onn, I'm doing everything I can to heal you. If you have any requests, suggestions or advice, please let me know."

Again, the Martian nodded slowly, sadly. Then he raised his head as if he had thought of something.

"kud ju prease aaaahh…. Aaaadd shum lllhhhimun tchoo maaaay… vvvv… vvvvw… vvvwaaahtcher?"

"Add some lemon to your water?"

J'onn nodded.

"I will. J'onn, I have work to do, so I'm going to leave you for a while. My microphone will be off, but your microphone will be kept on. If you need anything, ask for it. You will be heard."

Nod.

Batman turned the microphone off and swiveled in his chair to look at Shayera. She could see the sense of relief in his face.

"Looks like I need to pick up some lemons," he said with almost a touch of humor in his voice.

She could tell that there was a lot more levity behind the white-eye lenses than he would ever show. To a casual observer, he still appeared very neutral, if not cold. To her, she could sense that, while not entirely content, he was more optimistic and somewhat pleased with the situation.

He turned his chair more and stood up, heading towards the armory to change into civilian clothes.

"Bruce, wait…" she said. "Are you really going to the store to pick up some lemons right now?"

He cocked his head with curiosity at such an odd question.

"Yes," he replied carefully. It almost sounded like a question rather than an answer.

Shayera swallowed and tried to build up the confidence to ask the simple, stupid and outrageous question growing in her head.

"Could… Could I go along?"

Batman stared at her hard for a few strong moments.

She tried to hide her hope and anticipation as he studied her. She knew that, despite the social niceties he'd been offering lately, he was still The Bat… and all that implies. She was asking a lot of him to take her out in public as Bruce Wayne. Most likely people wouldn't recognize her without her mask and wings, but then again, maybe they would. Even if nobody did, just being a woman out with Bruce Wayne would be enough to get heads turning and cameras clicking.

As the precious seconds ticked by, her hopes slid more and more. Slowly, dejectedly, her head started to sink. That is, until she saw him reach for something in his utility belt.

"Take the Corvette," he commanded as he tossed her a car key. "There's cash in the top drawer to the right of the refrigerator."

* * *

The lunch rush was over by the time Diana had made the fifteen-minute walk from Gail's bookstore to Steve's Roadside Tavern. There were no customers and she arrived as Steve was lifting a new keg into the cooler in preparation for the evening crowd. It was a Friday night after all. Big business. Big tips.

"Let me give you a hand," she offered as she grabbed one of the cold steel handles.

"Thanks," Steve replied, his voice straining with the effort.

They got the new keg in place, tapped it and shut the cooler door.

"Used to be a time when I could hoist one of those things on my shoulder like it was nothing," he told her as he wiped his hands on his apron.

Diana's eyes drifted with the secret of knowing what she had once been capable of. She must have reminisced a little too long because he called her out.

"What are _you_ smiling about?" he asked half playfully, half seriously. "Don't believe me?"

She shook her mind free. For going on a week she hadn't missed her powers much at all. Despite its true age, her body was still very youthful. She was healthy and strong. Her mind was clear and sharp. Even without her abilities (she stopped calling them _gifts_ when she abandoned her faith in those old gods) she was still a very capable person.

But now she had been asked, and she actually stopped to think about it. It wasn't in her nature to lie or deceive, yet she wasn't sure if she was ready to share anything like that with Steve. She felt comfortable with him. He was a friend—a good friend. But she didn't know what he would think if she finally told him who she truly was.

"No, I…" she started before drawing a cleansing breath. "I was just thinking about what I used to be able to do when I was younger, too."

"_Younger?"_ he chuckled. "What are you? 24? What could you possibly have been able to do when you were _younger_ that you can't do now?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Before she could find the words, she huffed out a slight laugh and a lightly shook her head.

"You know… it really doesn't matter," she confessed. She knew that his question was rhetorical, but she answered any way. "I'm perfectly happy with what I have now."

She had so much more on her mind, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to let it out yet. She stole a glance at his strong, kind eyes and saw nothing but understanding and acceptance; something that she never thought that she would ever experience or appreciate again.

Eventually, without saying another word on the subject, he turned his attention to restocking the condiment trays with olives and cherries. There was absolutely nothing at all about his attitude or demeanor that suggested that he wanted anything more from her. But something was bothering her.

Besides the friendly small talk, he had never asked her anything about herself. Technically, she was working illegally for him since he never filed any kind of records of her employment. He always paid her in cash, as had his wife at the bookstore. They never signed any kind of lease on the apartment.

He completely trusted her without really knowing a single thing about her.

She had never known trust like this before from anybody in her entire life. Her mother, her Amazon 'sisters', the League… _him._ Every person she ever had any form of relationship with had demanded something from her at some point in time—had asked her some personal and revealing question about herself.

Not Steve. He accepted her without any conditions at all. And she was able to _be herself_ around him. It was a level of freedom she couldn't remember knowing before.

She stood next to the keg cooler, pondering the man, a slight grin gracing her face, staring at his back as he started cutting lemon twists. He was so simple. At times, he let it show that his mind was deep as anybody's and almost as sharp as Bruce's. Yet there was nothing complex about him or his world at all. His life was as full as he wanted it to be and everybody that she had ever seen him talk to had treated him as if he was their own father. She hadn't taken much time to think about anything too deeply for the past week, but now that she started, it occurred to her that his simple lifestyle had fused itself with hers.

And she was happier for it.

Then her smile slid as she realized that this wasn't exactly the first time she had a person like this in her life. She _**did **_know somebody like this once… a person that she regretted she didn't fully appreciate or acknowledge until it was too late;

Wally.

There was a sudden and hollow burning in her chest. Her jaw dropped and she took a seat on the nearest barstool. Her face tightened as her blue eyes welled up red and her breath shivered out through her quivering lips. Before she knew it, her hands were clamped over her mouth and she was crying hard, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks as her body shook with un-muffled sobs.

Steve dropped the knife and wiped his hands on his apron again as he flew down the bar towards her.

"Diana?" he said with some urgency, trying to get her attention. "What's the matter?"

The floodgates had burst open and she was bawling uncontrollably. She reached for him as he made his way out from behind the bar and kindly put his arms around her shoulders. She leaned her face into his chest and squeezed him tightly as she unashamedly rolled sob after sob out into his shirt.

He didn't press her for an explanation. He didn't try to console her. He just held her and occasionally stroked her short hair. It was only a few minutes, but so much pain and emotion was flushed out, she couldn't believe how good it felt to have somebody trust her again, to hold her and offer her unconditional love and support. She drew on his strength and his affection as she cleansed herself of all the pain she didn't even know she had locked in her heart.

It wasn't long before her dignity insisted itself and she pulled away, wiping her tears and trying to hide the last few stray sniffles with forced chuckles.

He still didn't speak. He just looked into her eyes until she smiled and nodded.

"I'm OK," she told him. "Really…. I… I don't know what came over me."

That wasn't exactly the truth. She knew that it was the bottled up frustration and fear and loathing and sorrow that she had been keeping in more and more and more. Wally's murder, the snapping inside her when Clark butchered President Luthor, the abandonment of her mother, her faith and her home, the lost passion with Bruce. She had denied release of all of it. But now, she had been allowed to finally recognize it for what it was. And she had been given a chance to change it… to purge it from her life… to fix what was wrong inside her.

It couldn't have happened with anybody else. Until now there had been nobody else in her life that would have allowed her this freedom – this chance to show a vulnerable side. All this time, she had tried to keep up her appearances – to stay strong and invincible. Eventually, she had lost everybody that she could have trusted – Clark, Hippolyta, Bruce… she had shut them all out. Only this man with her now had been strong enough to let her feel like this again.

He was saving her.

Still he said nothing. He simply handed her a couple napkins and set a glass of water down on the bar in front of her. He watched her for another few seconds, until she took it up. Then he patted her shoulder and went back to his lemons.

She took a sip before she realized what he had just done... what was really happening within her. And her confusion about him doubled.

He had witnessed a person breakout into a full throttle blubbering with no explanation and no warning, only to hold her until she finished. Then he helped her regain her poise without a single question as to what had happened or why. To top it off, he had returned to life as if nothing had happened.

'_What the hell?!'_

"I don't get you," she called to him at the other end of the bar.

"Whadaya mean?" he asked over his shoulder, not missing a beat in his chopping.

"You've never asked me a _single thing_ about myself, yet you've trusted me with your livelihood, your apartment, your wife, your home… you take me in and help me get back on my feet without asking a single thing in return… now I break out bawling like a baby and you comfort me without even knowing what it is I'm crying about?!"

Even with his back to her, she could tell that he was probably smiling.

"I don't get you," she repeated.

"Are you complaining?"

"Well, no…"

"Then what's there to get? I'm a good judge of character," he tried to say with some humor.

She didn't buy it. He might not have asked anything of her, but she needed to know more about him… this man that had literally changed her life in such a short time.

"_Steve…"_ she sang strongly as she stood up and walked to stand across the bar from him, staring at him with wonder and disbelief. "Who _ARE_ you?"

He put the knife down, scooped up the lemon twists into a cup and wiped his hands yet again. His smile didn't fade, but his eyes weren't so warm.

"Is it so hard to believe that a person can simply have faith in other people?"

"Yes," she responded with some regret at actually believing it.

He grabbed a glass full of ice and served himself a soda and took a sip before he responded. It seemed to her that he was thinking very deeply about what it was that he wanted to say.

"Well… I believe _do _in the goodness of people," he began. "When left to their own consciences, most people will do whatever sits right with their soul – otherwise they couldn't live with themselves. You can't _force_ people to do good things, otherwise it's done out of a sense of fear, not a sense of compassion."

Diana knew that the words were deep and meaningful, but they were barely sinking in. She was too wrapped with anticipation for whatever was to come next – to finish the whole lesson. It was clear that there was so much more for the man to say and whatever it was, it was sure to be something that could have a profound effect on her understanding of him… and of herself.

"Was a time," he continued, "when people helped folks out because of a sense of duty to mankind, not because it was the law. I'd rather have a person be a five-star ass to me 364 days out of the year, but nice to me once out of the kindness of their hearts. At least then, I know it's for real. If they're nice to me because they've been told to do so, well… where's the humanity in that?"

Realization started to slowly sink into Diana's head as he kept speaking. It was a realization that the world needed Love and Hope… ideas she used to believe in, the reasons she was created.

"These days, people can't vent their anger or frustration without risking jail or fines. I don't like it. I've never lived my life that way and I'm not about to. This little, run-down bar of mine… none of that exists in here. I may get arrested some day, but if somebody wants to start a fight here, I let 'em! If people want to talk bad about the government or even the Justice Lords, so be it! People are free in here. And so am I."

Diana's head sank more as he mentioned the Justice Lords.

"Like I say… I believe in people. And I don't ask for explanations from anybody and I don't think I owe anybody one either. Because your friends won't need one and your enemies won't believe you anyway."

Diana's chin was tucked all the way down to her chest. He was so right. She felt the urge to finally open up to him. She wrestled with telling Steve the truth… about whom she really was and what had happened to bring her here to his world. Despite the fact that he had just told her that he'd never ask her for anything, she felt obliged to share herself with him. The truth.

"I'm not going to ask you why you just cried, Diana. To me, it doesn't matter. You're my friend and you were sad. I hope I helped you find a way around it. If you feel like you want to share with me why, then I'll leave that to you. I'll listen, you know that. It's not because I don't care that I don't ask. It's because I DO care."

She finally found the strength to look up at him. His eyes were as wise and loving as any she had ever seen. She reached out and took his hand in hers.

"Thank you, Steve. Really… thank you."

"Any time, Angel," he smiled.

She finally found a smile for him as well.

"I'm glad I know you, Steve Trevor."

* * *

**AN: Like most chapters these days, this one took longer to get out than I would have liked. I'm sorry about that. The good news is, in putting the finishing touches on this one, I've been moved and inspired and I've written A LOT more. Thus, I'm hoping to have the next chapter out much more quickly (and maybe even the one after that).**

**Thanks for your patience! And thanks for reading! I hope you like it.**


	8. Chapter 8: Clues

**Disclaimer: DC owns all these characters as far as I know. No profit is gained by this fic.**

**Hepburn is a marvel. Seriously… I think lightning would strike her if she said "Shazam". If this chapter is even remotely good, it's because of her. Thanks, lady!**

**This story is a sequel of sorts to "A Better World". There are spoilers. It is also a companion piece to another story of mine; The Powers That Be (which is a prequel to "A Better World"), but I'm going to try to write it so you don't have to read that one. We'll see how it goes.**

* * *

Eternal 8: Clues

"You are not a Ruler, John Stewart. The power of the Green Lantern Corps is not for wielding in order to reign, it's intended for use in providing _Justice_."

"We _had_ justice!" John said for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Earth was finally peaceful! Wars have ended! Crime has all but vanished! The longer I stay here defending myself for _doing my job_ the longer Earth and my _entire sector_ are in danger of falling back into chaos!"

"You will NOT presume to dictate to us the nature of the situation, John Stewart!"

"But he's correct. The ring chose him long ago and it has not abandoned him yet."

Yet again, the Guardians fell into bickering amongst themselves. John didn't even bother following who was saying what anymore. He didn't even look up at them anymore. He kept his eyes locked on the wall in front of him, keeping his ears open for anything that anybody said that backed up what he still believed.

"The evidence shows that he and the rest of the Justice Lords were headed on a path towards tyranny. Had this incident not occurred, then it is conceivable that the ring _would _have abandoned him before long."

"There's no reason to believe that was inevitable. If it were, then there would have been clues that John Stewart's path was not one with the nature of the Green Lantern Corps. The ring would have failed periodically and he…"

"Just because he says that did not happened yet doesn't mean that it's true. For all we know, the ring has been slowly abandoning him more and more over the past two years."

"If that were true, then the other Justice Lords would have taken action to oust him."

"How do we know that they did not?"

"I brought to you all the evidence that one of his former colleagues provided," Katma spoke up.

"Ah, yes… this Bat-Man. He claims that he's trying to help, but John Stewart claims that he is a traitor and is not to be trusted. What does the council make of this situation?"

John's head sank under the weight of his contemplation. What _does_ that mean?

If Batman really were a traitor… if he really did want John out of the way… then why would he let Katma-Tui take him back to the Guardians? Why did he cooperate and even seem to be anxious to get John back to full power?

He pondered as he half-listened to the arguing that continued between the little floating blue men high above him.

_What real reason does he have to even let me __**try**__ to get my ring back?_

"…Can the ring even be restored…?"

_If he had killed me, they would only have sent a replacement._

"…Will it accept him again…?"

_Would that replacement have understood what the Justice Lords stood for?_

"…No reason to doubt the ring's acceptance of him…"

_What would he have to gain by keeping me and not some other Lantern?_

"…Ring should be used to _support justice_ not suppress the populace…"

_It doesn't matter. Whatever his intentions were, he is__** not**__ my colleague any more._

"…Driven more by greed of power than by a desire to serve justice…"

_I __**will**__ get the ring back. I __**will**__ go back to Earth. And I __**will**__ restore the Justice Lords._

"…Actions that reduce the horrors of** war **cannot be written off as simple vanity…"

_And when I'm done, I __**will**__ do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of all this._

A SHORT TIME LATER…

"John Stewart, we have made our decision."

The announcement finally brought John's mind back to the situation at hand. He looked up at the council to accept their conclusion, fully confident that he would be flying home before the day's end.

"We have just received word that The Green Lantern Battery has restored your ring to perfect working condition. It is fully charged and will be available shortly."

John's mouth tightened and he nodded his head with understanding and approval.

"We will _not_ pass judgment today on your actions, John Stewart. The _**ring**_ will be the judge. If it accepts you again, then you shall undergo a simple series of training exercises to ensure you are fit for duty. If the ring rejects you, you will be stripped of your position and returned to your home planet as a civilian."

There was only a spark of anxiety in John's heart about that possibility. But just as quickly as it flashed, he was able to suppress it. He had to have his confidence back. He _had_ to have his ring; it was a _part_ of him.

"Retrieve the ring!"

Kilowog entered the chamber and opened his huge, meaty fist. The ring looked tiny in his palm. John waited a second, half expecting the ring to float onto his finger on its own. When it didn't, he hid his confusion and picked it up himself.

He took a breath before he tried to slide it onto his finger. In fact, it seemed that everybody in the chamber held his or her collective breath, waiting to see if the ring would allow John to wear it.

And there was subsequently a collective sigh of relief when the ring slid easily into place on his finger. John's heart started to thunder at the prospect of getting his powers back. He clenched his right fist and willed himself to lift into the air.

The ring stayed dark.

"Congratulations, John Stewart. The ring has accepted you. You may return to your post once you have finished Katma-Tui's training regimen."

With that, the Guardians turned and exited the chamber. Kilowog slapped him hard on the shoulder and left as well. Before long, it was just John and Katma standing alone.

"Congrats, John. Come on," she said, lifting into the air. "Let's get something to eat before we go. You're going to want to enjoy a good meal because you _won't_ like what I have for you to eat at the new training grounds!"

John didn't move.

He tried the ring again. He willed it to light so he could fly with Kat to the commissary.

Still, the ring stayed dark.

"John?"

He stared at it, confused… concerned.

"**John!"**

"I don't think it's working, Kat."

"What's not? The ring?"

She landed next to him and scanned his ring with her own.

"Well, my ring says that it's in perfect shape and fully-charged."

John tightly squeezed his eyes shut as he tried again, looking as though he was fervently praying, and in a way he was. He tried to fly. He tried to make it do _something… anything_. But the only something was nothing.

"Kat… something's wrong."

* * *

Justice Lord Shayera had indeed found the cash where Bruce told her. It was more than enough for a handful of lemons. In fact, in a bold move, she took the entire stack of $20 bills with her. Yes, she'd get some lemons, but she also wanted to get something more.

She finally felt a desire to do more than simply exist. She wanted to contribute. She knew Bruce didn't cook – not that she could very well either—but she could at least make an effort to make her new, if only temporary, home a little more comfortable. Clearly _he_ wasn't making the effort to do so.

The prospect of being out on her own excited her. Had she been let loose just a few days ago, she probably would have recoiled, but now, there was a sense of renewal in her spirit. She looked forward to going out and seeing the world with a fresh point of view.

Freed from her station as a Justice Lord, freed from her wings… she was anxious to try to experience life amongst the people as _one_ of them. She made a quick trip up to her guest room on the third floor and checked her appearance in a full-length mirror. She delicately touched the blue charm hanging around her neck and a small smile graced her face as she thought about the irony of being _free_ because she _didn't_ have her wings. She grabbed a light jacket and a baseball cap and went down the back staircase. As she made her way towards the cavernous building that Bruce called a garage, her excitement built more and more. Then she saw that fabulous black Corvette and her heart stopped… then it started _pounding_.

Half an hour later, she pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store. It wasn't the closest one to Wayne Manor. In fact, she deliberately drove around the outskirts of Gotham to a shopping center in the suburbs in order to avoid any suspicion. She figured that the closer stores might recognize Bruce Wayne's car – especially because of the personalized license plate.

At least that was the argument she used internally to justify herself.

In reality, she just loved driving that car! It didn't take long for her to remember how to drive a stick shift. She was just grateful that she didn't have to parallel park.

She put on a pair of Bruce's sunglasses that he had left in the console next to the driver's seat. They were a men's pair, but that didn't seem to matter—they looked good on her anyway. She also tucked her auburn hair up into her baseball cap. All in all, she looked like a non-descript young woman going to the store. Then she got out.

For the first few paces across the parking lot, she was still coming down from the rush of driving that awesome car (and she was immensely grateful that she hadn't been pulled over for the abundance of horsepower that she displayed unnecessarily). But then she noticed a couple of people in the parking lot looking in her general direction.

It started to make her nervous. After all, it was still possible that somebody could recognize her or the 'vette.

She kept her pace as she got closer to the store, taking in every pair of eyes aimed in her general direction. But then she realized; the people weren't really looking at _her_… they were looking at a woman that drove a magnificent machine—and she couldn't blame them—the car looked incredible. This helped her nerves somewhat, but there was one man that had arrived in the parking lot only moments after her. He parked in the same isle that she had and he was only a few dozen paces behind her.

He was following her.

As she neared the huge glass windows at the front of the store, she caught his reflection behind her. His eyes were locked on her back with an almost predator-like intensity. He was definitely looking at her.

Keeping her sunglasses on, she went in through the automatic doors, picked up a basket and continued on towards the produce section, keeping her senses heightened. She took her time picking out the best lemons in the bin. She nonchalantly put a few in her basket, then looked up, turning her head this way and that, pretending to search for a produce scale. In reality she was also keeping an eye on him.

He was pushing a cart by the vegetable section, inspecting a bag of potatoes, but he also stole a glance at her on the sly. He was a powerfully built man, with a strong jaw line, black hair and dark, piercing eyes. She even allowed a second to realize that, in other circumstances, she would have considered him quite handsome. Whoever he was, however, he was no professional, and maybe not even a dangerous person, but he WAS perusing her.

She casually moseyed towards the scale and weighed her fruit, then bagged them and secured it all with a green twist-tie. He was still keeping his distance.

She put the bag in her basket then made her way towards the first of the dry-food isles. He followed.

She stopped here and there, looking at cans and boxes, reading labels and gathering odd items. He did the same, still keeping his distance. Eventually she made it to the end of the isle and turned the corner towards the next one. Once he was immediately out of view, she quickly ducked around the corner and took off her sunglasses, setting an ambush.

It was only a few seconds before he rounded the corner rather quickly, straining his head to see where she had gone. Once he realized that she was _right there_ and he had almost walked right past her, he did a double take, sighed with a somewhat embarrassed look and tried to continue on as if nothing had happened.

'_What the hell?'_

"You wanted me," she said as he tried to continue by her. "Here I am."

She didn't use a harsh tone, but deliberately tried to be confrontational. Predictably, he stammered and then tried the polite approach.

"I… I'm sorry?"

"You've been following me ever since the parking lot," she accused. "You're not a very covert operator. What do you want?"

"Nothing, I was just…"

"_What_… do you _want,_" she enunciated slowly, dangerously, taking a fearless step towards him.

He sighed again. Finally, he seemed to pluck up some strength and confessed.

"I didn't mean anything by it… it's just that… I don't know… you're _beautiful_."

She was absolutely floored.

He wasn't following her because she was who she was. It wasn't the car she drove… it wasn't even _whose_ car she drove. This guy just thought she was pretty. Nothing even remotely close to that had entered her mind as being his motivation.

Her eyes wandered as she tried to absorb his words. She looked up at him once again to see if there was any sign that he wasn't sincere.

He was blushing.

"Really," he said, "I didn't mean to upset you… I just…"

He clearly couldn't find the words to finish whatever it was that he was trying to say, so he just turned to leave.

"Wait," she heard herself say. "I… you…"

She swallowed before continuing. She couldn't understand why she was suddenly embarrassed and at a loss for words herself.

"You didn't upset me," she finally said with a self-reassuring breath. "I'm just a little wary of strangers, that's all."

"I can see why," he smiled.

"What?" she asked, truly confused.

"Well, have you _seen _you? No doubt in my mind you've got forests of admirers standing around you everywhere you go."

She let a small giggle escape despite herself. Flattery wasn't something she had ever been prone to before.

"Actually," she began, somewhat unsure why she was even continuing the conversation, "no. I don't have any admirers."

"Well, I don't see a ring, so you probably have a boyfriend, then. Somebody that keeps guys like me from following you around grocery stores."

Her smile didn't fade, although inside she was a little saddened by the reality of her relationship with John.

"Actually, yes, he can be somewhat protective. But he knows I can take care of myself."

Upon hearing that she had a boyfriend, the stranger's eyes fell slightly. But he didn't give up his manners, or his interest.

"Well, would your boyfriend object to a tall, dark Italian with completely honorable intentions escorting you around the store while you shopped?"

She looked up into his amazing, dark eyes one more time. Her skeptical expression melted away on its own accord when it was obvious that he was serious.

She smiled as she answered him.

"OK."

* * *

Spinach, cucumber, crushed red oak acorns, petals from yellow daffodils…

Bruce Wayne looked at all the odd items laid out on his countertops. His 'grocery' list looked like an ingredient book for some archaic witch's brew. In his own world, Alfred would have never let him treat his kitchen like this, let alone even attempt to cook. Here, however, he had no choice.

He wiped his hands on his jeans and scrolled his computer monitor further down the list. J'onn's notes were very thorough… of course.

"_I have found that boiling these ingredients in water with a small amount of iron oxide powder will make a dish similar to…"_

Bruce read on.

If this Martian was as much like the J'onn of his world as he believed him to be, then it wasn't hard to read between the lines. These notes on physiology, on medicines derived from local plants and other Earthly products, on food… this _cookbook_… it was much more than what it first seemed.

The water in the copper pot started to roll to a boil.

"_The general pH of the soil here allows for a wide variety of stems, stalks and fruits, but the closest thing to Martian katarums seems to be..."_

Bruce scrolled down and noted the dates on the files. They were fairly recent.

"_I may never find a suitable texture to substitute for [unpronounceable word], but I find that avocados are similar…"_

He mechanically grabbed fistfuls of the 'ingredients' and dropped them in the boiling water. He wiped his hands again and continued to another computer file in the "Holistic and Homeopathic Medicines" section. If he could synthesize complex chemicals and perform even more in-depth analysis and experiments, surely he could learn how to cook a few meals…

"_Lately, I've discovered that Citric Acid seems to have very similar affects on my body as it does on humans. I don't know if this is a natural coincidence or if my body has adapted to this planet's ecosystems more over the years…"_

No, this wasn't just a scientific log. This wasn't just a cookbook or a medical journal.

This was a diary.

There were bits and pieces of J'onn's soul in the pages. Between the lines were glimpses of his pain… the pain of what he had lost and what he had left behind. There were small hints of J'onn's search to recapture something… anything that could bring back the tiniest shred of Mars into his life. Bruce could tell that there were times when he was excited while entering his notes because he had found something that brought back a little bit of his home.

"…_a confection known as a 'cookie', which seems to be almost detrimental to the humans when taken in large quantities, but thankfully has no ill effect on me. To the contrary, I find that the simple carbohydrate chains increase my immunity to the viruses found in…"_

This J'onn J'onnz… the Justice Lord Martian Manhunter… his gloom and his search where reflected in these words and his journal entries were a road map to the ever-increasing loneliness that he endured. The dates of each entry showed that, as the Justice Lords' power grew, his despair deepened. As they solidified their grip on the planet, his remorse intensified and he strove harder and harder to recapture something Martian.

The boiling 'stew' grew an off-white froth that spilled over onto the burners below. Bruce cursed as he grabbed the pot handles. In his haste, he forgot the oven mitts and he cursed again harder for being such a damn fool to burn his hands. Quickly recovering, he donned a mitt and pulled the pot to the side.

Turning back to his laptop, he clicked the mouse and went back to the 'cookbook'.

"_The dish is best served after it is allowed to cool to approximately 35°C. Cayenne pepper and raw honey make excellent condiments."_

Bruce ladled a bowl full and grabbed a spoon. Before he headed to the cave, he caught one last footnote about the dish he hoped he prepared correctly:

"_Flash always joined me whenever I made this dish. He said he enjoyed it, but I think he was just being polite."_

* * *

Lord Superman sat in his cell's only chair, watching a poker championship on his television.

"I can't believe you're actually letting me watch this, Bruce," he said out loud even though the Dark Knight hadn't visited him face-to-face in two days. "You know how much I enjoy it. I wonder why you're letting me do something I like. Still feeling guilty for being such an ass?"

Clark had taken to talking out loud since before Batman had nearly squeezed the life out of him several days ago. He knew he was being watched. He knew that everything he said and did was finding its way to some monitoring system somewhere.

As if on cue, the television screen changed. The new image was the steering wheel and dashboard inside an expensive car. The screen shook and shivered as the cameraman turned the engine off and got out. It didn't take too long to figure out that this was footage of a hidden camera mounted somewhere on the driver's body—judging by the angle, probably somewhere around chest height. In the lower right corner was a date and time suggesting it was around noon a few days earlier.

The image continued as the driver walked across city streets, passing pedestrians who occasionally seemed to stare in the general direction of the driver's face, somewhere higher than the camera. Many people seemed to be somewhat taken aback, some even dumbfounded. ALL the women smiled to some degree or another. Before long, the driver turned to enter the glass doors of a restaurant.

Clark immediately recognized the establishment's name painted in gold letters. It was a quaint bistro in Metropolis that he used to take Lois to many years ago when their relationship was young.

As the driver walked closer to the entrance, his reflection became clear in the glass. Predictably, it was Bruce Wayne and he had his signature smile plastered comfortably all over his face. He entered the building and was immediately greeted by the hostess, then by the manager. There was some obligatory fawning over him and he was then shown to his table, where an older woman was waiting. Her back was to him as he approached, but even without seeing her face, it wasn't hard for Clark recognized that it was Martha Kent.

Bruce sat down and greeted Martha cordially. He thanked her for taking the time to travel all the way out to Metropolis to meet with him. She politely acknowledged that it was no trouble, especially since he had sent a limousine for her.

The waiter poured them some ice water and asked for their drink orders. The menus were placed on the table, but neither person picked one up. Then Bruce got to the meat of the subject.

"Mrs. Kent, you know who I am," he said with certainty.

"Well, of course," she responded as if it was only small talk, "you're Bruce Wayne! _Everybody_ knows who…"

"Mrs. Kent," he interrupted quietly but firmly. His voice had grown more serious. "You know who I am."

She heaved a small sigh and nodded.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne. I know who you are."

"Then you know that I asked you to lunch today because I wanted to discuss your son."

She blinked several times and turned her head to one side, but said nothing.

"Mrs. Kent, I think you should know…"

"Whatever it is you have to say, Mr. Wayne, I'm sure I don't want to hear it. My husband and I worked our fingers to the bone trying to raise Clark the best way we could. We tried to show him love and teach him how to use his God-given abilities the _right way._ What you and he and all of the others have been doing only proves that we weren't cut out for the job. We weren't qualified to raise a… a _man_ of that stature, Mr. Wayne. Clearly we were failures as parents because what he has become is an abomination. We never wanted to see him do any of the things that he's been doing these past few years."

She stopped only to dab her eyes with her napkin.

"I have to live the rest of my life knowing that I raised a tyrant. My only consolation is the fact that my husband didn't live to see it, but even that isn't much comfort because I know he's watching over Clark from the Lord's side. Sometimes I wish I had died years ago with Jonathon. I cry myself to sleep _every night_ wondering what it was that I did wrong. Because when my husband died, Clark was a good man, but now…"

She wiped her eyes again.

"Now… I must have done something wrong because he's… Well, you know what he is. What _you _are. What you _all_ are."

Like so many of her generation, the lady had a remarkable talent for making everyday words sound more horrific than any string of profanity slurred by any low-life thug. Her posture was perfectly rigid. Her face, despite her reddening eyes, was solid and unwavering. Her tone of voice left nothing to chance; it was quite clear how much emotional pain and guilt she was living through day after day because of her adopted son.

"Mrs. Kent," Bruce began formally, "I asked you to lunch today because I agree with everything you just said… with one exception. We aren't _all_ like that. Not anymore. I'm trying to make things right, but when it comes to Clark, I'm going to need your help."

Clearly she was thinking very deeply on the subject.

"I promise you, Mrs. Kent. I will do everything in my power to fix everything that has gone wrong. And I promise you that I'm going to do everything that I can to bring you back your son, the man that you and Mr. Kent raised him to be."

Martha looked down at her hands for a second as she considered what she had just been told.

"Well, I wish I could believe you, Mr. Wayne. And taking you at your word, I would have to say that you have very noble intentions, indeed. But unfortunately, what you're proposing is impossible. I've tried to talk to Clark. Oh, I've tried _so many times_ to bring him back. I've begged him and pleaded with him… and so has Lois. There aren't many who know who Clark really is, but of the handful that do... the ones that still care for him… we've all tried to reach him. I'm afraid he's unreachable, Mr. Wayne. You say you want to bring back my son. I say that you can't. All that's left is a monster, a _Kryptonian_ like General Zod. My son is dead."

With that, she neatly placed her napkin on the table and stood up.

"Goodbye, Mr. Wayne."

The television went back to the original programming, leaving Clark to wonder. He didn't have long before a clanking sound interrupted his thoughts.

The metal tray slid into Justice Lord Superman's cell with a cold cheese sandwich, tub of applesauce and a pre-packaged brownie. Same as every other lunch that he'd suffered through since his captivity. However, this time, a newspaper followed through the small slit of a door.

"The Smallville Gazette"

The headline read:

"_**Local Woman Dies Helping Needy"**_

"Martha Kent, beloved long-time resident of Smallville, died early yesterday afternoon of an apparent heart attack while helping at a local food pantry…"

* * *

AN: I'm a slug. I'm not posting chapters NEARLY fast enough. As a reader, I know that it's easier to stay 'in' a story if the chapters aren't long in coming. So I completely understand if you have any frustrations with my poor timing. I'm sorry about that. But like a wise man once said: "Life comes before FanFic".

ReadingCat: I like using Wally as a character in so many ways… he can be clueless at times because he's young and goofy, but he's also very clever and very powerful, so he can also be poignant. Keeps him three dimensional that way! And as far as arnica… perhaps my knowledge of the medicine is off… I always thought that it was used after incidents in order to bring contusions to the surface… basically as a treatment for it, not something that would complicate it. Ah, well. Please forgive me. Thanks for the review!


	9. Chapter 9: Digging

****

Disclaimer: DC owns all these characters as far as I know. No profit is gained by this fic.

**LOOK AT THIS! I'm actually updating in a timely manner! That's just one more thing that we can all thank Hepburn for. Not only does she correct my countless mistakes and add some much-needed class, she also cracks that whip and makes me haul this cart to market. THANKS HEPBURN!**

**This story is a sequel of sorts to "A Better World". There are spoilers. It is also a companion piece to another story of mine; The Powers That Be (which is a prequel to "A Better World"), but I'm going to try to write it so you don't have to read that one. We'll see how it goes.**

**SPOILER ALERT: some spoilers and allusions to the cartoon episode "The Terror Beyond".**

* * *

Eternal 9: Digging

2:30 am, Saturday morning in Steve's Roadside Tavern – after hours.

It had been a long, hard Friday night. Steve and Diana were tired, but content. Their customers were well taken care of, and in return, they took care of Steven and Diana as well.

The clean up was finished. Everything was put away and wiped down. All that remained was for the two friends to finish a couple end of the night beers and some good conversation.

During the course of the evening, a young couple had gotten into an argument and the woman stormed out of the bar. Steve recommended to the young man that he go after her, which he did. Now, with the chairs all stacked and the floor drying after Diana's mopping, the conversation turned to relationships in general and the difficult times they sometimes pose.

"There was a time," Steve continued, "when I thought Gail and I were through."

Diana was shocked. She searched his eyes to make sure she had heard him correctly.

"Yep…" he continued with a sad sigh. "It was looong, long ago. We had only been together for a few years. Times were tough. Money was tight. I tried biting off more than a man that age could chew. I thought I had enough answers to tackle a mountain of problems, but I wasn't _wise_ enough or _mature_ enough to realize that, just because you have enough hours in a day to do all you set out to do, it doesn't mean your mind or your spirit will _let you do them._"

Diana sank her chin into her palm, her elbow on the bar, her fingertips curled softly into her lips as she pondered how much wisdom this man could share in so few sentences. Every day… more and more, she grew fonder and fonder of Steve Trevor—amazed at his sage advice, his brilliant understanding of people, and his ability to put so many complex things into simple priority. She started to wonder if there was anything that he couldn't do – even now, in his advanced years. To hear that there could have been something in his life that he couldn't handle was surprising to her to say the least.

"I was foolish enough to think that all the stress and strain I had heaped on myself wasn't what was really bothering me. I had somehow convinced myself that I could do everything I set out to do if I could just dump some of the excess baggage. Along the way, I started thinking that our marriage was part of that baggage and if I ended it with Gail, I could get on with my life."

Diana couldn't believe what she was hearing. They seemed so _happy_ together.

"What I didn't realize was… Gail _was_ my life. But once I finally did, things changed."

"What helped you to realize that?"

"The simplest of things, really. It was two sayings that I read somewhere. Maybe in a couple fortune cookies or something, I really can't remember."

He walked down to the end of the bar as he talked.

"One is: Never underestimate your ability to change yourself and never overestimate your ability to change other people."

He paused as he pulled another longneck out of the refrigerator for Diana – he knew better than to ask.

"The other; A successful marriage is 50% finding the right person, 50% _being_ the right person."

He put the new bottle down on the bar in front of her, took up her empty and tossed it into the recycle bin.

"I realized that Gail and I weren't right for each other anymore – but we had been once. Over the few short years we were married, we had grown apart – for whatever reason. And I started thinking that my marriage was collapsing when I thought that Gail wasn't being who I wanted her to be and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't _make_ her be that woman again.

"I learned that I couldn't change Gail any more than she could change me. But somebody _had_ to change in order for our marriage to work. So, I made a conscious choice: Instead of trying to make Gail change to become who I wanted her to be, _I_ would change to become the kind of man that _she_ needed me to be. So I did. And before I knew it, I noticed that _she_ was changing, too. It was natural, but it wasn't really a conscious choice on her part. I guess she just saw that I was making the effort and so she started to as well. It saved our marriage and in that sense, saved my life, really."

He took one last draw, emptying the bottle and tossed it away. Diana took a swig of her beer as well; her eyes focused on nothing in particular a thousand miles away.

"And it helped me get back something else that I didn't know I had lost."

"What?"

"Hope. I knew that we had lost the love, but I had also lost the _hope_ in regaining it. They work together, you know… love and hope. One can help restore the other and a man can't do without either of them, no matter what nonsense he tries to say."

Diana's face fell with amazement. Those words… Love… Hope… they had once meant something to her too. They use to be a part of her, her reason for existing… her gift to the world. She had not realized just how much her heart and soul had missed them. She didn't realize that she had only just begun to recapture them. It was like finding a long lost cherished childhood friend, a feeling of joy and excitement tempered with a quite calm of inner peace.

"So… it was a good night, wasn't it Di?" Steve asked light-heartedly. "Did those rascals in the corner tip you well?"

She shook herself back into reality. It took her a second to recognize that Steve was deliberately trying to change the subject. He wasn't a man to wear his heart on his sleeve and he had just opened a very private part of himself to her. He needed to bring something less complex to the conversation. However, she wasn't sure if she wanted to yet or not… her heart was practically begging for release. She wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to share her pains and dreams with him as well. But she could see what he needed. He needed some simplicity. He had always been so selfless with her, it wasn't hard for her to selflessly oblige.

"Yeah, they were alright," she answered, also light-heartedly. "One of them tried to put his hand somewhere he shouldn't have but I made sure he knew that wasn't allowed."

Steve gave her a smile.

"You sure know how to handle yourself," he observed.

"I can hold my own," she said with a knowing and sly grin, practically inviting him to ask her more about herself… _how_ she knew how to handle herself… _What_ she was truly capable of…

But he let it drop, much to her disappointment. Despite his declaration that he accepted her as a person and as a friend without the need to demand anything of her, she was growing more and more inclined to share herself with him. But she couldn't bring herself to take the first step… to _offer_ her life's story to him. She needed him to ask, and damn it, he never did. So, she had taken to dropping tantalizing hints with the design to bait him into asking. So far, he wasn't biting.

"There aren't many men I can't handle," she declared with a somewhat arrogant tone.

"Makes my life a little easier," Steve countered. "If you couldn't take care of yourself, I'm sure I'd break a lot of pool cues beating off some of the animals we get in this joint!"

'_DAMN IT, STEVE! You did it again!'_

* * *

Justice League Wonder Woman stood in her steaming shower. The pulsating water buffeted her tired muscles into submission and she sighed as she sank her forehead against the tiled wall. If she could fall asleep standing naked in the bliss, she would have. Fighting inter-dimensional monsters had a way of sapping one's energy.

And even if she showered and scrubbed her body for a week, she wasn't sure if she'd ever be free of the stench.

Shayera had asked her if praying to her gods actually gave her strength. Of course, she had told her unequivocally that it did. She had always known that the source of her strength and abilities was the gods of Olympus. There had never been any reason to even question it.

And she still didn't question it, but now she had to question _something_. She always accepted her deities as the source of her gifts, but she also accepted that their favors were conditional, to a degree. She had to _live_ as an Amazon Warrior Princess, within all the rules and expectations associated with that title. If she strayed from that path, surely she would risk losing their approval, and in turn lose her gifts.

Upon realizing that the man in the black Batsuit was not her Batman, she had been keeping her own surveillance on the subject. She had been covertly inspecting his logs and reports. She had been watching him a little more closely than normal. However, she was so sly, so clever in her behavior that there was really no way for him to know that her activities weren't normal. He had no idea how she behaved _before_.

Of course, in monitoring this visitor, she also had spent ample time considering the Justice Lords and reflecting upon them, their world… all of it. This included her doppelganger.

How did that other Diana manage to stray off the path of Amazon Warrior Princess and not anger the gods? How had she kept her gifts when clearly she was not living in compliance of their will? Her armor was different and she didn't wear the tiara… clearly she had strained, if not severed ties with Themyscira. It didn't take long for the Justice League Diana to start believing that, in order for Justice Lord Diana to play her part as a Justice Lord, she probably would even _abandon_ the gods. And if that was indeed the case, why hadn't they stripped her of her abilities?

She mustered the strength to turn off the blessed water and step out of the shower. She found her towels, patted herself dry and wrapped her long hair like a turban. As she did, she mused about the other Diana's short hair and considered how nice it would be after a shower like that.

Soothed and refreshed, it didn't take her long to put on some black sweatpants and a navy blue hoodie. She let her damp hair hang down her back and headed out into the corridor. She hadn't gotten three paces into the cafeteria before Flash greeted her with a rush of wind and an iced mocha.

"Heard about your mission," he said with a smile. "Now, you _gotta_ sit down and tell me aaaallll about it."

She couldn't fight her own smile and she found herself a comfortable chair across from him at a table. She told him about what she, Superman and Hawkgirl had found at Dr. Fate's tower. She talked about her battle with Aquaman and laughed along with Flash as they shared some obligatory rudeness about his attitude problems. She eventually wound her way to the end of the mission, when Solomon Grundy sacrificed himself to save them all, if not the entire world.

But her mind was only partially with Flash. The other part was with the visiting Batman.

She knew he was a Justice Lord. _Knew it_, even if she didn't fully believe it. He may have evaded her ambush in the monitor womb the other day, maybe even sown a few seeds of doubt, but she wasn't dissuaded. After he left, she had ample time on monitor duty to ponder everything that was said and unsaid… even the fact that she didn't simply outright attack him and demand to know where her Batman was.

'_Did I really call him _MY_ Batman?'_

She had read the reports. She had seen the results of his efforts. She had seen the business sections of the Gotham Times. She had heard the concern in his voice when he asked if there was anything he could do to help. This visitor was performing all of Batman's duties nobly and properly. There was very little reason to think otherwise. The only serious questions left unanswered were why? And where was _her_ Batman?

She had thought about it as much as she could, which was considerable. There was no solid evidence that her Batman _hadn't_ met with foul play. There were no facts that crossed out the possibility that the Justice Lords were planning retaliation. There was nothing concrete to declare that this visitor could be trusted. But she did trust him.

Chalk it up to instinct. File it under a sixth sense that she always had about people and her accuracy in being able to read them intimately upon first glance. Perhaps her gods had also gifted her with an ability to understand human nature just a little bit better than the average warrior princess.

As she finished her iced mocha and her conversation with Flash, she got up and headed to the Javelin bay, rejuvenated. She ran into John, who was heading down to the surface, using his ring. Instead of flying the ship down, she hitched a ride with him, grateful for the fact that he didn't question her destination halfway between Gotham and Metropolis.

Her energy and ambition seeped back into her while she flew through the crisp night air. As she did, she allowed her mind to contemplate the things she wanted to ask the visiting Batman. That was her intention since she stepped out of the shower – to talk to him some more. She had dressed in dark colors for a reason, after all. She wanted to finish what they began on the Watchtower. She wanted to find out more about what was really going on. She wanted to know more about the Justice Lords… particularly about that other Diana and what she had really gone through.

She wanted to know where _her _Batman was.

She neared the Gotham city limits and flew high above the skyline, her keen eyes scanning the maze of lighted streets and darkened alleys below. She was in no hurry, and since she had considered the situation, she prepared her mind for patience. She could spend the rest of the night roaming around, listening for sirens and alarms and watching for police strobes. If she could hone in on those, she knew that he wouldn't be far away.

Having just a topical knowledge of Gotham, she vaguely knew where the most notorious places were. The famous "Narrows" would be a great place to start, she figured. It wasn't a long flight to the area and she found a rather tall building to land on to begin her search. She hadn't been standing long, peering over the ledge at the grimy streets below before she caught a sound behind her. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a half a smile.

"I should have known that you'd find me before I found you," she said without even turning around.

"What are you doing here?"

She turned to look at him. Even knowing he was a 'good guy', the sight of him standing with his cape closed around him, half blended with the shadows, a faint but sharp shimmer of his eyes… it was a frightening sight. She swallowed despite herself.

"Are you busy?" she asked.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated more forcefully.

"I wanted to finish our conversation from the other day."

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'm busy. Go away."

She immediately knew that this would be even more difficult than she thought. For some reason, when she planned this, she believed that once the conversation was started she would be able to understand many things better—things that were concerning her. She wondered, now, why she thought it would be so easy to even start a conversation.

'_Confrontation? Kindness? The direct approach? Playing it simple and curious?'_

She pondered the best way to proceed for a few moments. Before she could decide, he took the decision away from her and turned to leave.

"Batman…"

"**Go away."**

'_Confrontation it is, then.'_

"Not until you answer a few questions about why you're here and what your true intentions are."

He stopped and half turned his head over his shoulder.

"You still believe that I'm not _your_ Batman?"

The way he said that word; "your"… it got under her skin.

'_Dang! He didn't miss that…'_

"You're _not_ him. I know you're not. But I also know that you're not here to cause trouble. So that leaves me to wonder why you _are _here and where _he is_."

He turned to face her full on. It wasn't a Batglare, but his stare was still something that could make almost anybody uncomfortable… even an Amazon Warrior Princess. A few strong moments later his hand shifted under his cape, then he spoke.

"Fine. I'll give you some answers, but not here."

Within seconds, there was an impressive-sounding engine rumbling in the streets below. Diana turned to see what it was and while she neared the edge of the building again, a huge black shadow swooshed by her and she watched as he glided down to the waiting Batmobile below. Within seconds, he was in the cockpit and gliding through the streets as gracefully as she was flying through the night after him, out of the city and into the darkened countryside beyond.

He pulled onto a side road and shut the car down at an isolated spot amongst a thicket of trees. Her heart sank just a little as she had hoped that he was taking her to the Batcave, but clearly that would have to wait for some other time. She landed effortlessly as the engines finished whining down and he climbed out of the cockpit.

The night was still and quiet, the spot was dark and lonely. Only the sound of the occasional vehicle from the main road on the other side of the nearby rise could be heard over the random crickets. Clearly he was familiar with this place.

"What do you want to know?" he demanded with very little emotion.

"First, I want the truth. You're him aren't you? The Justice Lord Batman…"

"If you already believe…"

"Just say it!" she snapped.

He paused.

"Yes."

She wasn't sure if it made her happy to be right or upset that he really was who he was. Before she could figure out what she truly felt, he ambushed her with his own question.

"Why do you care?"

She wasn't prepared for it.

"I… I think it's important that we know that an intruder…"

"Stop it," he cut her off.

She was speechless. His abrasiveness was even worse that she had predicted.

"You said it yourself the other day, Princess. My logs and reports show that I'm doing my job – both in Gotham and within the League. The financing of the Watchtower hasn't faltered. There's no reason to not accept me as you did him."

"That's not true!" she asserted. "He earned our trust and respect. You might be your world's Batman. You might have earned the trust and respect of those other people, but they're not us and you're not him."

"Not him, huh?"

"No, you're _not_ him!"

"Not _your_ Batman?" he said with a softer voice than Batman usually uses.

She drew a breath but was at a loss for words. He didn't give her a second chance.

"Don't lie, Princess. It's not in your nature. You have a point that he has earned your trust and I haven't, but there's something else, isn't there?"

She couldn't deny it. He had found a soft spot.

"Yes," she confessed quietly, looking right at him.

She felt vulnerable, exposing a part of herself to this man… this intruder. But again, her instincts, her _sixth sense_ had allowed her to do it.

His stance relaxed somewhat, and then he did something completely out of character for a Batman. He turned and leaned back against the famous black car and started talking to her as if he were just another person, not the terrifying Dark Knight of Gotham.

"He's fine, Diana. He's helping me… saving my whole world, really. I asked him to do something that I couldn't and he agreed."

Despite the number of questions that statement planted in her mind, she only fixated on the underlying theme. _Her_ Batman was off saving another world – without any word to her or the others in the League. Her mind screamed about the recklessness and dangers and security risks of such an extreme mission. Her heart silenced it by whispering how just like _him_ such nobility really was.

"I'm only here temporarily," he continued. "When he's done, we'll switch back and nobody will be the wiser."

"_I_ will be."

"That's right. So I'm sure you understand how important it is that you keep this to yourself."

She nodded and joined him, leaning back against the car. She stared down at the gravel beneath their feet.

"What exactly is it that he's doing for you and your world?"

"There's a potential attack being planned. We're vulnerable right now because of what happened between you and us. He's there trying to reform my colleagues, to bring our organization back to where we should be. We need to be more like your League."

She nodded again and let her mind linger deeply about what a momentous challenge that really was. They stood silently beside each other in the cool night as she pondered. Eventually, she found herself stifling a small chuckle and he looked at her expectantly.

"So, your metas are still without their powers?" she asked, a knowing grin spreading on her face.

"Yes."

"And he has to try to change their minds to make them stop being tyrannical overlords?"

"Yes."

She giggled.

"So, basically… he gets to beat Clark into submission?"

He huffed out his own snicker.

"I guess so."

They shared a knowing glance at each other.

"Now that I think about it that way… I'm a little jealous," he told her with a half smile.

They stood in comfortable silence again for a few moments. If there ever was any real tension between them, it had long-since evaporated. She now felt a deepening sense of trust and allegiance with this man. If her Batman trusted him to be here, then so could she. She kicked a few loose stones.

Then she remembered that there were other things she wanted to know about his world. Namely, she wanted to know more about his world's Diana and what kind of person she really was.

"Tell me about Diana," she requested, innocently enough. She was growing eager to know more about that other Wonder Woman.

She didn't understand why he stalled and even swallowed before answering. She didn't think it was that hard of a thing to talk about, but clearly something was bothering him. He seemed to answer with difficulty.

"We were in love."

* * *

"He told me," Flash said to Justice League Batman over the inter-dimensional 'cell phone', "that you guys were going to trade back soon to make sure things were OK in your own worlds."

"That's right, probably in the next few days. I'll let you know when it happens. Where is he right now?"

"I guess he's in Gotham. Do you want me to track his…"

"No! He'll know that you're checking up on him."

"How would he… never-mind. He's like you."

There was a pause in the conversation. Flash hoped it was because he had made the other man smile.

"Where's Diana?"

"I don't know. I saw her a little while ago after her mission. We talked a little in the cafeteria then she hitched a ride with GL to the surface."

There was another pause, followed by a few seconds of static.

"OK, that should be good enough. Do you have anything else to report?"

"No…" Flash answered, curious as to why the signal suddenly sounded much, much clearer.

"Batman out."

* * *

In a remote part of space, on an unknown world, two people were hard at work. One was an instructor, one a student. The irregular rotation of the planet kept half of it in perpetual darkness while the other half was bathed in permanent daylight. Being so close to the binary stars, the lighted half was far too hot for most creatures to survive in, but the atmospheric currents kept the darker half within tolerable ranges. The three moons that shined their gray reflections on the surface every so often provided the only light available on that half.

The terrain was mostly rocky with pockets of vegetation—sometimes sparse, sometimes lush. There were slate canyons and rocky plains. There was running water that cascaded down black crags and emptied into pools so clear that even in the low moonlight, the bottoms could easily be seen. The atmosphere was relatively thin, so that even with the brightest moonshine, countless stars were still visible.

Ample foliage provided sustenance for the two visitors, but there was no animal life what so ever to be found. One could survive for a lifetime, if needed. All in all, it made for a perfect training ground for new Green Lanterns.

Best of all, it was isolated.

"Physically, there's nothing wrong with you. The ring is in perfect functioning order as well. Why you can't seem to command it is still somewhat of a mystery, John."

"There's got to be _something_ wrong with the ring, Kat. It wouldn't even let me put it on if I wasn't considered worthy of wearing it. You _know_ this. Why can't I make it work?"

John Stewart's frustration was boiling over. For days he had been bombarded with every drill and challenge that Katma-Tui could conjure up; the obstacle courses, the weight training, the swimming, the meditation chambers, everything.

But despite passing each test of physical ability with flying colors, the Green Lantern Ring on his hand was little more than decoration. Try as he might, John couldn't wield its power at all. Not a single spark of energy sputtered from it under his command.

Ever since leaving Oa John had been eerily quiet. She thought he was simply concentrating on the training, but there were no obvious signs that he felt any sense of accomplishment in completing the tasks she set for him. He was mechanical for the sake of being so, not because he was focused.

"You're right, the ring wouldn't accept you if you weren't worthy," she admitted. "But maybe there's something more that we're not thinking of. Get some rest, it's getting late. The second moon will rise in about five hours and we'll try some more things then."

She left him to himself in his shack. She had been cultivating a certain area into a training grounds of sorts and John was her first, albeit unexpected student to test.

She lifted up into the night and made her way to the instructor's quarters, high on a near-by peak, where the thin atmosphere virtually disappeared. There, she had all the creature comforts she needed. She could monitor everything her students below were accomplishing without them actually knowing they were being watched. She could also enjoy a good night's sleep in a real bed and not the small pile of plant stalks that made up the ones in the compound below. She secured the airlock and she laid down for her own quick nap. It was a fruitless attempt, because she knew she'd be staring up at the metal ceiling all night, wondering why her pupil was failing despite having passed every test.

Back on his own bedding, John lay pondering as well. The ring felt at home on his finger again, but it perpetually felt cold. He knew Kat was right, that he should get some rest, but the frustration was gnawing at him and he couldn't get his mind around it.

It wasn't long before he caught the sound of rustling outside. It sounded like it could have been the wind in the trees at first, but then it grew louder and became more rhythmic.

Footsteps.

John carefully, quietly, climbed off the ground and pulled back the burlap drape that passed for his front door.

"I mean you no harm," a rather calm male voice called out from the dark.

"Who are you?" John demanded.

"I'm here to help."

With only starlight, all John could see was darkness and darker darkness. His mind's eye helped him envision the lay of the land and he could make out faint shapes of the surrounding landscape. Whoever the stranger was, he was tall. A moment later, his silhouetted form became only slightly more distinguishable as he took a few steps out from the darkest shadows of the trees.

"Whoever you are," John warned, "You're not supposed to be here. This is a Green Lantern training facility and if you're not an instructor or a student…"

"Actually," the voice interrupted, "I _am_ an instructor. I'm here to make sure you achieve all you're capable of achieving, John Stewart."

John was taken aback somewhat that the stranger knew his name.

He wasn't very comfortable having the conversation, but he knew that he was at a loss. Whoever it was, they had either arrived on their own—which meant interplanetary travel—or they had been there for days, if not weeks and Kat hadn't known. Either way, they had means. John didn't.

All he had was a cold Lantern ring in a coma wrapped around his finger.

Until he knew if he was in any danger, there was little else he could do but listen to what this stranger had to say.

"How do you know my name?" he demanded, trying to establish his authority.

"I know almost everything about you. I know how and why you became a Green Lantern. I know about your exemplary record policing your sector. I know about your relationship with your instructor. By the way, do you know that she's sleeping in a soft, warm bed up there right now while you're shivering down here on a pile of narful grass?"

"I'm fine where I am," John demanded. "You still haven't told me who you are or how you…"

"Like I said," the stranger interrupted, "I know all about you. I even know about your Thanagarian lover back on Earth and what happened to put you into this shameful predicament."

"Alright," John started, stepping completely out of his shack into the chilly night and all but confronting the stranger. Ring or no ring, he wasn't going to stand there helplessly while his life was laid out before him in embarrassing detail. "Whoever you are, it's time you left and I'd strongly advise you to not come back."

"John, John, John… I don't think you understand what I'm offering you. Your Green Lantern ring doesn't work for you any more, does it? But your body, your mind… you're in perfect shape. It even lets you put it on your finger, yet you can't control it."

John's right hand shifted a little as he made sure that his ring was still on his finger… just in case.

"I know why," the stranger said softly, strongly. "I know that Katma-Tui has taken you as far as she can—but it's not far enough. I know what you need to get your power back. I know how you can get back all that you've lost. Like I said, I'm here to help."

There was something dangerous about the stranger's voice, but the words were more than intriguing. John listened hard to all that was said and tried even harder to hear what wasn't.

Who was this person? Was this a test? Was this a trap?

He didn't know. But the concept of finally getting back to where he needed to be, to wield that ring and get back to Earth… to make things _right_ again… now THAT was something that got his attention.

"I'm listening," he said back to the darkness.

"Do you want to get your station back?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to return to Earth and reestablish the peace and order that was taken from you?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to see people respect you again?"

His answer was slowed by a swallow and a pause.

"Yes."

"Then you have to _show_ them that _you_ are the power. You have to make sure that the people are _fully aware_ of the consequences of their actions and that _you_ are the one that will dole out the justice accordingly."

The stranger's voice grew stronger with each declaration. John heard each word, and it sank in. It wasn't unlike what he had been telling himself ever since Batman had tossed him into his cell. It struck home with him. Maybe this stranger could be trusted after all…

The stranger continued.

"Do you think that you can handle this kind of power again, John Stewart?"

"Of course I can."

"Then _welcome, brother…_ to_ REAL power!"_

With that, a ring on the stranger's own hand started to glow a brilliant yellow, the aura exposing his face to John for the first time.

"Sinestro!"

* * *

**AN: If you've read my other stuff, then you may have already guessed that my knowledge of the characters is limited to three sources: the cartoon series, other FanFic stories and whatever I hear at the Watchtower staff meetings that Superman INSISTS we have each week. So, if I write something that doesn't jibe with the comics, please forgive me!**

**Thanks for reading. Review if you like - I always try to respond. Send me a PM if you like, or an email. I even created a profile on a commonly-used friend sharing platform with the initials of F and B (how crazy am I to do that?).**

**-WL**


	10. Chapter 10: Healing

**Disclaimer: DC owns all these characters as far as I know. No profit is gained by this fic.**

**This story is a sequel of sorts to "A Better World". There are spoilers. It is also a companion piece to another story of mine; The Powers That Be (which is a prequel to "A Better World"), but I'm going to try to write it so you don't have to read that one. We'll see how it goes.**

* * *

Eternal 10: Healing

Diana locked the back door of the bar and headed up the stairs to her apartment. It was another good night, and it included the same crowd of friends and regulars, everybody now knowing her and accepting her as one of their own. There were even a few compliments about her new boots and black leather jacket. Along with the intimate conversation with Steve and all it meant to her, it really was good night.

She opened the door to her apartment and almost stepped inside when she realized that she wasn't tired at all and she didn't feel like being inside any more. The cool autumn air was calling.

So, she skipped back down the stairs and headed towards the street for a late, late evening stroll.

She hadn't gotten far before a dark van drove by her going the other way. It was the only car on the road and she couldn't help but notice the two men in the front seats. There was something about them—something that was a little _off._

She got down on one knee, pretending to tie her bootlace, but really she just wanted to see where those two were headed. Her instincts were demanding that they were up to no good. She allowed a quick flash of relief when the van drove by Steve and Gail's house, as well as the tavern and her apartment. But just as quickly, a pang of concern hit her when they pulled into the gas station just a little ways further. It was the same place where the butt-end of a shotgun had cold cocked her off her feet the night she came to town.

The van pulled to the side of the building instead of the front—where security cameras wouldn't get a good look. She instantly recognized what was going to happen and she took off, sprinting at top speed to intercept. She ran on her toes as to keep down the clopping sound of her boots hitting the pavement. The cool air burned her lungs, but her adrenaline kept her energy spiked high.

The driver pulled a balaclava over his face and stayed in the van with the motor still running. Two other men, also masked, got out of the van, one from the front passenger seat and the other from the sliding door. They had long objects in their hands. Diana couldn't tell if they were simply bats or crowbars… or something more lethal like shotguns or rifles.

Still she kept sprinting. As she crossed over the embankment and into the parking lot, the driver noticed her and got out, slapping a tire iron into his palm.

"You don't want none of this," he warned with a deep, gruff voice.

She didn't answer. Still at an all-out sprint, she sprang into the air, spinning. Her first foot knocked the tire iron out of his hand and her back kick sent him flying into the van, cracking the grill and denting the hood. She landed, panting from excitement, making sure he was down for the count. Once it was clear he wouldn't get back up, she turned towards the building.

She bolted towards the doors and could see through the glass one of the suspects emptying the contents of the cash register into a cloth sack. The other had the fat lady backed up against a wall with her hands in the air, a black baseball bat against her throat. It was the same nasty lady that Diana had 'met' that one unpleasant night.

Diana blasted through the doors taking all three by surprise. She quickly assessed the situation. There were no firearms in sight – making things a little easier.

'_Secure the hostage first.'_

The moment the man saw Diana flying at him, he turned to give her his full attention. The lady against the wall tried to grab for the bat and he rewarded her with a full swing against her arm. She fell to the floor howling in pain.

As he turned back towards Diana, she was within attacking distance and he took another full swing. She dodged back, her arms up in the air, the bat missing her mid-section by mere inches. He followed up with a back swing at her head. He missed.

She dropped to the floor, wove her left foot behind one of his ankles and kicked with all her might at his knee. She felt it shatter under her boot and the sound of cracking bone resonated through the store. He collapsed, screaming in unimaginable agony, clutching his leg.

Still on the ground, she saw his accomplice fly over the counter. He had found the shopkeeper's shotgun and had it aimed right at her head.

Had she been Wonder Woman, she would have had the reflexes. Had she not been stripped of her bracelets, she may have even been able to block the buckshot from hitting her face. But she wasn't Wonder Woman and she had no defenses. She only had her agility and her Amazon warrior's knowledge.

She rolled hard and fast away from the man, trying to get to her feet quickly. She only got her body a few inches off the floor before she lunged down one of the merchandise isles. She heard a shotgun blast go off and she covered her head as she felt debris rain down on her.

Then there was nothing. No more shotgun blasts, no sounds of being pursued… just the seething and whimpering of the lady and the punk with a new permanent limp.

She cautiously peeked around the corner. The man no longer had the shotgun in his hand. Not only that, but he was also no longer on his feet, and she quickly discovered that he was no longer conscious. She stood up and looked around. She noticed that the one shot he managed to get off hadn't even been in her vicinity, but had blown a couple of tiles out of the ceiling.

Then she noticed the glass doors were slowly closing the last few inches into the jamb.

'_Somebody was here.'_

She ran out into the night, looking up and down the road, listening for signs.

Nothing.

Walking back into the store, she picked up the shotgun, emptied the shells and dropped it on the counter, then turned towards the shop keeper. As she crossed the floor the first thug screamed at her.

"YOU BITCH! YOU BROKE MY KNEE!"

She spared him a look of disgust before kicking the side of his face, knocking him out as well as, she considered, one or two of his teeth.

"Are you hurt badly?" she asked the lady.

"I think the bastard broke my arm," she answered before looking up. Diana saw her nametag: Andrea.

"I'll call for an ambulance. Where's the phone."

"Behind the counter," she answered, trying to get up.

"Stay there, I'll take care of it."

She found the phone and called for the paramedics and the police, rotating her attention from Andrea, to the two suspects on the floor, to the one in the parking lot… and for any signs of whoever had been the one to lend a hand. After hanging up, she went back to help the shop keeper.

"They'll be here soon," she tried to say with a soothing voice, but it came out with a little bit of venom. She couldn't help it; she still held some animosity for the unfortunate woman for what had happened the first time they met. Recognizing it for such, she tried to put it out of her mind and work on the new mysterious Samaritan. "Did you see the person that took out the one with the shotgun?"

"No," Andrea panted, her eyelids showing that she was slowly threatening to pass out from the pain. "I saw _somebody_, but I couldn't make out anything. It was a man, I could tell that much by the build, but he was dressed in black."

Diana turned back towards the door, trying to visualize what may have happened… how long it would have taken for a person to assess the situation, enter the shop, take out the assailant and leave again. Then she noticed the numbers up the door jamb – the ones on the doors of most convenience stores used to judge the height of any perpetrator fleeing the premises.

"Did you notice how tall he was?" she asked, still looking towards the door.

Andrea thought for a second before answering.

"I… I'm not sure," she admitted. "Could have been a little taller than six foot but I didn't get a good look."

'_Bruce…'_ Diana thought. It wasn't a hard conclusion to reach. The number of people capable of pulling off a stunt like that was small enough as it was. Cross that against the number of people that _would_ (let alone _could_) disappear into the night without a trace… there really was no reason to analyze it further.

Andrea interrupted her thoughts with a groggy question.

"Wh… Why did you…?"

"You were in trouble," Diana said as if it should have been obvious – and still not very warmly.

"But… the other day…"

Diana changed her train of thought and considered what the lady was really asking. She took a moment to consider it herself. There was nothing in her life that obliged her to do things like this anymore. She really could have easily kept to herself and just let it happen. She could have simply called the authorities from a safe distance. But that wasn't in her. Her bad first impression with this lady… the problems in her life… they paled in comparison and shrank to insignificance when compared to what she really was inside – what she would ALWAYS be. When she realized what she needed to say, her voice finally found the right tone for the situation.

"That doesn't matter anymore," she said. "Just try to get comfortable and stay conscious until the paramedics get here."

"Comfortable?" the lady scoffed.

One of the suspects groaned.

"Do you have anything I can tie them up with until the authorities arrive?"

"There should be some twine in the back room," Andrea nodded towards a door. "Check the metal shelves on the left."

Diana got the spool and a box cutter and headed back out to the parking lot. She bound the man outside first, securing him to the bumper of his van. As she started tying the other two suspects' hands behind their backs, Andrea got her attention again, her voice still breathless and weak.

"The… the other day… you said… you said you were Diana… from the Justice Lords. I didn't believe you then but… after seeing what you did here. I do now!" She managed a weak smile.

Diana didn't look at her, but kept to her task. Andrea's attempt at light conversation brought a sudden realization into her mind: When the police arrive, they _will_ recognize her. That would raise all kinds of concerns and questions that she didn't want to even think about answering.

To make matters worse, a few concerned locals started trickling into the store. Clearly the shotgun blast had been heard by several neighbors and had piqued their curiosity.

"Andrea?" one man asked making his way to the lady's side. "Are you alright?"

The tying done, Diana stood up and stepped back as a couple more people filed past her, assessing the situation. She took another glance out the glass doors to see Steve hurrying his way through the parking lot.

'_Oh, great! What am I going to tell him about all this?'_

He slowed down before entering, clearly realizing that she was involved with whatever happened in the shop. She couldn't read his expression as he pushed the glass door open—something between concern or worry and confusion maybe.

"Are you alright?"

The question was simple and innocent enough, but there was something about him that made her feel self-conscious.

"I'm OK," she answered, unsure where to go from there.

"You know her, Steve?" Andrea called out with a little strength finding its ways into her voice.

"Yeah," he answered, still studying Diana's face.

Diana couldn't look back at him, her eyes quickly cast down as she waited for the truth to finally find its way into the open. Surely Andrea would tell him who she really was…

"She's my niece from Visalia," Steve continued, stepping past her towards the shopkeeper.

Diana fought to keep her surprise out of her face. She didn't know if she was successful or not.

"Well," Andrea declared, "she's a damn hero! We need more like her around here if you ask me!"

All eyes in the store locked onto her. She didn't know how to feel.

She had been the center of attention countless thousands of times and had saved bigger days than this one. But there was something about everybody's expression this time that made her uneasy, bashful almost. There was real admiration and gratitude. There was sincerity in their growing smiles as Andrea outlined what she had done. One man started clapping and before long, the small gathering was in an all-out applause. Even Steve.

She was blushing.

Saving lives, catching criminals… _that_ was not new to her. But the whole feeling of this situation was so different. All those other times, she had been Wonder Woman or a Justice Lord. This time, she was just Diana. She had no powers. She had no magic lasso or bulletproof accoutrements. She was just another anonymous civilian, risking her own safety to do what was right. It was an old feeling in a way, but part of it was so exhilarating and new!

'_If they really knew who I was, they wouldn't applaud.'_

The faint sound of sirens reached them growing steadily louder. Before long, there were squad cars in the parking lot, followed shortly by an ambulance, their red and blue flashing lights assaulting the night. Steve excused himself from the small group of people and escorted Diana out of the store.

"Wait here," he told her as he went back inside. A minute later, he came out with a baseball cap, removing the price tag as he walked. "Here, put this on. Let's hope they don't recognize you."

She looked at him for clarification, but he just thrust the hat into her hands and nodded quickly, keeping his eyes on the police as they got out of their cars. She did as he recommended.

"How long have you…"

"You're kidding, right?" he interrupted quietly with a suppressed smile.

The police quickly assessed the situation, got statements from the people inside and secured the thugs. Upon Andrea's testimony, one officer approached Diana and Steve.

"Are you the person that subdued the suspects?"

"Yes," she answered not looking him in the eye.

"They say you're a hero, and I have to agree with them. We've been after these three for a while now. We think they've hit fourteen places in the past two months and we've never managed to get more that a few grainy pictures from old security cameras."

She still couldn't find a way to look the officer in the eye. In fact, the need to turn away was growing stronger each second. She was nervous for reasons she couldn't explain. She just wanted to get out of there and away from it all.

"I…" she stammered humbly, "I'm glad they're finally caught."

There was an uncomfortable silence for a second, as it seemed the man wanted Diana to say something more. She just wanted to run.

"Officer," Steve stepped in, "Will you need an official statement or anything tonight?"

"Well, we'll need to file a report of what happened and…"

"Because my niece isn't one for public attention. We would really like to keep her anonymity if at all possible."

The officer studied the two for a strong second, and then he nodded with understanding.

"I guess we could just report that a concerned citizen lent a hand and leave it at that."

Diana felt the warm rush of relief growing inside her heart.

"Thank you," Steve said, putting his arm around her shoulders, steering her towards the street.

They made their way back towards the highway in silence. Before long, they were climbing the stairs to Diana's apartment. She fumbled with the keys and her hands were shaking inexplicably as she tried the lock. Part of it could have been the receding rush of adrenaline, but there was something more. Steve took over and opened the door. She wandered in and numbly stood there in the dark before Steve turned on the light.

She watched him as he took one last evaluating look at her, then he turned to leave.

'_He's doing it again!'_

"Steve, wait. Could you stay for a while? There's something I want to tell you."

He didn't look surprised at all. There was still very little furniture in the apartment, but he found a comfortable spot in an easy chair. Diana stayed on her feet. She steeled herself for the confession she was formulating and she took a deep, cleansing breath.

"I was born Diana of Themyscira," she began, "Princess of the Amazons…"

XXXXX

An hour later…

"Steve, I don't know… I don't know what I want any more! I don't know who I am or where I belong!"

Sitting on the couch adjacent to him, she looked into his strong, kind eyes, hoping that he had answers for her… hoping that he would tell her that everything would be alright. She wanted him to tell her what she had to do to get rid of her confusion and her fears. Never before had she allowed somebody to be strong for her.

"So," he began slowly, summing things up. "You think that you've lost everything that you used to love. A few short hours ago, you thought you had found a few answers but now you feel that you will never outlive your past. And you believe that you have nothing to look forward to or pin your hopes on. Does that about sum it up?"

When he put it so succinctly, it sounded so severe… so absolute. But it wasn't that far off the mark. She nodded her head.

"I can't go back, Steve."

"And why not?"

"All the things I've said, all the things I've _done._ And, I still think that a lot of what the Justice Lords stand for is still true. Just look at what we've accomplished in such a short time! My mother will never see the righteousness in it."

"Hmmm… Let me ask you something, Diana; If you got your powers back tomorrow, would you stay here serving beer to bikers and pool sharks or would you go back to being a Justice Lord?"

"I… I really don't know."

Steve sighed, his eyes softening with understanding.

"I'm living proof that where you've been only affects where you're going if you allow it to. I believe that a person _can _change their ways if they find it within themselves to do so. But I also believe that people have _souls_, Diana. Call it their nature, call it their spirit, whatever. It takes a helluvalot to make people change _that_ about themselves. And I look at you and I see a purity that I've only ever seen in a precious few."

He put his hand kindly on hers.

"It's your life, it's your choice. Yes, you were gifted and you used those gifts… maybe even abused them, but you're not that person anymore. There are many people that think that you've been a force for good and there are others that think that you haven't. It's not their consciences that you have to live with—it's yours. The only one you have to answer to anymore is you, and if you can sleep well at night, then there shouldn't be any need to second guess yourself. But if there's something nagging at you inside, then you're smart enough to figure out what it is what you have to do to fix it."

He patted her hand and stood up to leave. She stood as well and followed him to the door.

"Believe me," he said, his voice lifting to finish the conversation with a lighter tone, "you'll regret the things you _don't_ do a lot more than the things that you _do._ When you get to be _my _age…"

"_Your_ age?" she asked with smirk and a raised eyebrow.

He had to think for a second before he realized what she meant.

"OK, I might not be centuries old, but it's not the years, darlin'… it's the mileage."

She laughed warmly and gave him a firm and affectionate hug. He opened the door and headed down the stairs before she stopped him with one last thought for the night.

"Steve… uh… listen… Tomorrow... If you won't be needing me I…"

"It's alright Angel. Gail and I will get by without you for a few days."

He winked and continued down the stairs.

She wore a smile as she closed the door. She knew what she had to do.

She had only used the pre-paid cell phone she got just a few days ago to place one call so far. For pizza. This call was going to be a much more difficult.

It was almost 5:00 in the morning in Gotham. She didn't expect him to actually answer. In fact she had hoped to leave a message.

No such luck.

"Hello?"

"Bruce? It's Diana."

* * *

Justice League Diana couldn't believe what she had just heard.

"We were in love."

She wasn't even considering Justice Lord Batman's relationship with Justice Lord Diana when she had asked him about her. She wanted to know more about her as a person. How was she before? Had she changed over the years? How had she been able to embrace the Justice Lord Doctrine when it clearly was so contradictory to what she knew about her own mission in life and the way of the Amazons?

But it was a simple mistake. She had simply asked him to tell her about that other Diana. She never specified that he talk about anything specific about her.

"It started a few years ago," he continued. "There was always an attraction, but one day we crossed that line…"

He continued to talk in frustratingly clinical terminology about their romance. As he spoke, Diana's own emotions transitioned from initial surprise, through impatience for more juicy detail, to understanding.

Understanding that he was talking without being asked one thing more.

'_He's confessing.'_

While it was true that he was, indeed, releasing all kinds of personal issues that any normal person would be happy to vent, he was not any normal person… which made her all the more curious to hear what he had to say.

"After… after Alfred died, I asked her to move in. Something had changed by then, and living together only magnified it. I was in 'damage control' mode. Things were getting worse. It was an attempt to save whatever was left, but it… might have been a mistake. Things hit a downward spiral after that point."

He paused, never looking at her but keeping his face angled down towards the gravel.

"What changed?" she asked.

"I really don't know. It might have begun with Flash's murder… maybe even before that… I can't tell for sure. Looking back now, it seems that things were cooling off a lot by that time, but the whole incident with Flash, the President Luthor… I never really had a relationship like that... I…"

He paused, his head shaking.

She caught it and something occurred to her.

"You think that was _your_ fault?"

He didn't answer and she didn't need him to. He almost looked at her, but instead he sighed and turned his attention back towards the ground. A few rough seconds later, his posture solidified and his face grew a frigid scowl.

"It doesn't matter," he said with Batman's voice. "It's over now. Relationships in our line of work are a bad idea. They never work out. Right now my top priority is to make sure that the Justice Lords get reformed. I only hope that _your_ Batman can succeed where I failed."

'_Me, too.'_ Diana thought.

* * *

Justice League Batman shut down the inter-dimensional transporter. If he did his job right, Justice Lord Batman would never suspect that he had been there for the past 3 hours. He would never know that he covertly transported back into his own cave and accessed the computers. There would be no record that he tapped into Diana's COM link. There would be no evidence that he recorded their entire conversation and brought it back with him.

He unloaded the memory stick on which the conversation file was saved. He listened to the conversation, paying particular attention to everything his counterpart said. Then he listened again, paying even closer attention to everything his Diana said, and more importantly, the way she said it. He was still deeply in thought when his phone rang. The caller ID showed a number he didn't know.

"Hello?"

"Bruce? It's Diana."

* * *

**AN: Sorry this took longer to post than I anticipated. I've been out of commission for a couple weeks, but don't fret. Whigmus Lister is still upright and above ground.**

**Thanks for reading!  
WL**


	11. Chapter 11: Intentions

Disclaimer: I don't own the Justice League. No profit is gained by this fic.

AN: Hepburn Rocks. Period.

* * *

Eternal 11: Intentions

"Hello?"

"Bruce? It's Diana."

No answer.

The pause was long enough to make her wary. She thought she heard him take a breath, but when he didn't speak she gave in.

"I…" she started, but her mind couldn't find the right words. She sighed loudly and shook her head, trying to regain the confidence she thought she had only a moment ago. "Bruce, I think I…"

She couldn't finish. She had forgotten what it was that she wanted to say. Did she want to apologize? Did she want to ask for him to explain himself? Did she want to confess all the boiling emotions that she was trying so desperately to understand? Did she want to share with him all that she'd experienced in the short time since he abandoned her to her own conscious and a harsh world?

She didn't know.

But he didn't give her a chance to decide.

"Come home," he said softly.

* * *

9:30 am, ex-Lord Diana's apartment

She didn't sleep at all.

She had very little to pack and had nothing to pack it into, so she stuffed everything into a black trash bag and sealed it with duct tape. After the ten minutes it took to do that, she started going over and over in her mind what she wanted to say to Bruce. She thought it over and over and over, again and again and again. Each time, she revised her thoughts anew. She omitted items and she included others, only to reintroduce or remove them during the next go-around in her mind.

Trying to reconcile with Bruce was the right thing to do-that was one thing she was sure of. Her nervousness and indecision didn't sway that. If nothing else, she would at least talk to him. She would tell him how she had finally come to grips with the past two years. She had finally confronted Flash's murder in her mind, and while the pain was and always would be difficult, it was part of life and she accepted it. She had recognized that she needed to bring Love and Hope back into her own life. She would delicately open a discussion about the Justice Lords, their mission, their tactics, etc. She would try to keep an open mind when she asked him why he betrayed them all, although she still reserved the right to consider him in the wrong.

And she wondered if there was any love left in his heart for her. She didn't know about her own, yet.

He had offered to send her money. She refused. The thought that she had earned enough to make her way back to Gotham on her own brought a surprising degree of satisfaction. She wanted to continue making her own way. She also welcomed the opportunity to see a little bit more of the world through the eyes of an average person. She'd take the bus, she decided.

He told her to call him if she had any trouble. She politely said she would, although she wasn't too sure if that was true. She wanted to be as independent as possible. At any rate, she knew he was monitoring her _somehow_… how else could he have helped out at the convenience store the night before? But she played along, reassuring him that she'd be safe and would keep in touch.

She finished washing up in the kitchen and tried to clean everything as best she could. She put things in order and had to remind herself that she wouldn't be coming back to this apartment – not to live here anyway. Even if she didn't find a way to restore her powers and reclaim her role as Justice Lord Diana, she thought she might want to find a place on the coast – near the ocean, like her birth home…Themyscira.

That thought, of course, brought her mind to Steve and Gail Trevor. She had told Steve that she wanted a few days off, but now she knew that she would have to tell him 'goodbye'. There had to be some way to show her appreciation to them. For a fleeting second, she considered asking Bruce to do something nice for them, but then perished the thought. Bruce didn't owe her anything and she wouldn't start her new, independent life asking a billionaire for favors. No, she'd find some other way.

She tucked the small black bundle under her arm, locked the door one last time and spritely trotted down the stairs. Steve and Gail were in matching rocking chairs on their front porch, enjoying the fine morning. Their old hound dog was lying lazily between them.

"Steve, Gail!" she called out as she approached. Both faces greeted her with blossoming smiles.

The three engaged pleasantly in polite conversation before Diana explained her change of mind. They accepted it with grace and understanding, although they confided that they'd miss her. Eventually, Diana drew everything to a close, handing Steve the key to the apartment.

"Well, I'm off! I have to get to the bus station to head back to Gotham."

Gail's face grew a knowing grin and she stood up. She bid Diana farewell with a warm hug and retreated into the house, claiming to get ready for Sunday Church services.

Steve's face was struggling between smiling and trying to hide the sadness he felt of Diana's going. His eyes beamed and betrayed a hint of tears. He stood gazing at Diana with fondness and maybe a touch of pride for a few seconds. She didn't know exactly what he was thinking or feeling, but had a suspicion that he was up to something more than saying goodbye.

"Come with me," he said finally, taking her hand.

He led her around the house, down a brick pathway that led past the vegetable garden and to an old metal barn that was partially hidden by unruly trees. He unlocked the large sliding door and with a little effort, slid it open. The sunlight cast into the musty darkness, exposing odd items scattered here or piled up there. Diana stayed at the door's opening as Steve stepped in.

"As you know, Gail and I never had any kids," he said as he moseyed over to some object covered with gray canvass. "I put this away, hoping to give it to a son I never had. She always pestered me to sell it, but I had a feeling that it would come in handy some day. It's my pride and joy… a little something I've kept from my youth."

With that, he threw the canvass to the side to reveal one of the most amazing motorcycles Diana had ever seen.

"This is my 1948 Pan Bobber," he explained with a gleam in his eye. "As luck would have it, I got the urge to spruce her up about a month before you arrived. She's in great shape and she's full of gas…"

He tore his eyes from the treasure and looked directly into hers.

"…And now she's yours!"

Diana was absolutely dumbstruck. She had flown missions on interplanetary spacecraft. She had lived on board the most sophisticated and advanced machine ever built by man. She had personally driven the Batmobile on countless occasions. She even owned her own jet. But there was something about this amazing, shining, classic bike that revved her heart into a merciless pounding. Involuntarily, she dropped her trash bag full of stuff as her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"Oh, Steve…" she sighed, gingerly taking a step forward.

She knew she should have protested – if only for modesty's sake. She knew that this incredible machine was far too precious of a gift to accept. She knew that the monetary value alone would be substantial, not to mention the sentiment obviously attached to it. There were so many reasons why she should have declined.

But she didn't. She _couldn't._ She _wanted_ it! The thought of straddling that rumbling machine and cruising down the highway, the wind in her face and the scenery rolling by… oh, she _wanted_ it so badly!

'_Besides,'_ she convinced herself, _'it's obviously his heart's desire to give this bike to somebody special!'_

Her fingers intimately stroked the custom flame-on-black paint job and she noted how the finish caught her reflection like a dark mirror. She gracefully walked around it, her eyes taking in every fine detail, every shine and shimmer. She marveled at its precision and how it looked so raw and powerful while also looking so timeless and refined.

Steve stood back and watched her as she admired his gift. After what seemed like a small eternity, she finally tore her gaze away from it and looked at him with watering eyes. She didn't say a word as she spanned the distance between them in a few strong strides. She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder. Chuckling, he affectionately returned her embrace, patting her back firmly.

"Oh, Steve!" she said again into his shirt, squeezing him tightly. "Steve, Steve, _STEVE!_ "

She pulled back and took his hands in hers.

"I don't know what to say," she finally confessed.

"There's nothing _**to**_ say," he replied. "I told you before; I'm a good judge of character. I know that you two will take care of each other, and I know you'll fall in love with her just as I did all those years ago!"

Diana looked back at her new motorcycle.

"Oh, I already have!"

With that, he pulled a new, sleek black helmet out of a box and handed it to her. She took it and started to put it on before she even realized that he had handed her yet another gift. She shook her head, smiling at him as she secured the strap under her chin. He told her to sit on it and 'try it on for size', which she happily and eagerly did. She stroked the handlebars, noting each and every control. Before she knew it, he had gathered her plastic bag and secured it behind the seat with an elastic cord net.

"Does she have a name?" Diana asked him.

"I used to call her 'Susie' a long time ago, but I expect that you'll want to change that."

"I like 'Susie'," she confessed. "It's a good name. But on formal occasions, I think I'll call her 'Athena'!"

Steve nodded, a knowing smile growing across his face. Diana thought about how much she liked seeing him smile.

'Susie' started up easily with a roar and settled into a throaty idle. Steve's hands thrust into his pockets and he rocked on his heels, looking at the dusty ground as Diana steered her sleek machine towards the barn doors. She stopped in front of him, reached up and cupped his cheek in her palm. He slid his reddening eyes up to meet hers.

"You said that you wanted to give her to a son. Tell Gail that, instead, you gave her to a daughter."

He took her hand from his face, clasping it in both of his. He kissed her fingers lovingly and stepped back, giving her room to launch out into the world on her own.

* * *

ALPHA WORLD - Batcave

Lois nodded as Batman allowed her to enter the training arena alone, closing the door behind her. She silently made her way towards the holding cell he specified and gingerly stepped around to the front, finding Ex-Lord Superman slumped in a chair staring numbly at the television.

"Oh, Christ…" he muttered finally noticing her presence. He shook his head, eyes caught in a web of bewilderment. "Don't you have ANY sense of security at all anymore?" he shouted towards the ceiling, making Lois jump.

It took a second for her to realize that he was trying to talk to Bruce.

"He's not here," she said.

"Yes he is," Lord Superman spat at her as if she were stupid. "He's all over this damn place. If you think for one second that every twitch you make isn't being monitored, recorded and analyzed for him to use against you some time later on, then you're a bigger fool than I thought."

"_I'm_ a fool?" she asked incredulously.

"You're _human._"

She stared at him, truly confused by his words, his body language, his facial expressions. She pondered honestly if he had lost his sanity along with his powers.

In any case, she wasn't about to stand idly by while he proved how utterly pig-headed he could be.

"Well, from what I understand, so are you."

His head snapped around and he glared at her intensely.

"I am NOT human," he growled slowly, dangerously. "That _thing_ took my powers, not my physiology."

He turned back towards the cursed television.

She waited.

After a few difficult moments, she spoke again.

"Bruce thought that I might be able to talk to you."

"About what?" he asked as if it mattered.

"About where you go from here."

His eyes rolled.

"Well, I've been so busy lately," he staid mockingly, "sulking and melting my brain with this damned TV… but I _have _managed to form a little 'To Do' list… Would you care to hear it Lois?"

It was obviously a rhetorical question, and his smart-ass attitude frustrated her even further. Before she could form a retort, his attitude and his expression turned serious.

"I get out of here, get my powers back, reduce that traitor to a pile of ash and bring order back to this wretched planet."

"Oh, well, if _that's_ all," she said, turning to leave, "then you probably don't need _me_ to…"

"No, I _don't_ need you!" he interrupted her, making her stop in her tracks.

"That's right," she teased. "The High and Mighty Lord Superman doesn't need anybody. Well, then, Your Majesty… go ahead and break out of your _kennel_ and take the planet over again!"

She saw his mouth tighten and his jaw shift.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she continued condescendingly, "you _can't_ break out of there because your powers are gone _for good_ now, aren't they? And even if they _can_ be restored, do you honestly think Bruce would let you get them back? If he thought that there was even a _chance_ of that happening… of you becoming dangerous, do you think he wouldn't eliminate your sorry ass?"

He shifted uncomfortably, reaffirming her suspicions; he _hadn't_ thought of things like that.

"Come on _Kal-El,_" she said, using his Kryptonian name as an insult. "You know better than that! Why on God's green Earth would he keep you around if he thought that you were really a threat?"

He launched out his chair and rushed at her, stopping just short of barging into the barrier, making her take a step back involuntarily. He slammed both fists over his head against the Plexiglas as he ranted.

"He's a _dead man!_ You're _all_ dead! You, Lana… _anybody _that could ever hold anything over my head is _dead!_ I'm so _sick _of all this _bullshit._ You people think you can coerce me into going against what I know. You try to bribe me with all your sentimental garbage! He tries to use _my mother_ and _you_… You're USELESS to me! This whole damn planet is USELESS!"

Lois stood there slack-jawed watching the man she used to love rage on like a psychopath. Her hollow chest started to burn and her guts wrenched with pain and loathing and betrayal. Her stunning, violet eyes watered and her face twisted with disbelief. For the first time ever, she truly started to fear this man… this creature. It took a few seconds to realize that he stopped his raving because something behind her caught his attention.

She spun around to see the Dark Knight looming in the shadows, glaring icily at his prisoner.

"Lois… leave," Batman told her, his cold voice crushing her even further. "Now."

She nodded frantically, stole one last glance at the lunatic that slightly resembled Clark Kent and quickly left. She turned the corner around the cell, into the shadows of the training arena and broke out into a sprint towards the door. Behind her she heard 'Clark' yelling again, then the sound of the cell door opening…

Then she heard the sounds of a struggle. She blocked the sounds out of her mind; the sounds of Clark's grunts and of gloved fists pummeling flesh. She blasted through the door and across the catwalk towards the computer consoles. She collapsed into a chair, shaking uncontrollably and gushing sob after sob into her hands.

It took her a few moments to even register Shayera was there next to her. Still, she continued to convulse as she cried. Her confusion and fear and breaking heart forced themselves released. After a flooded moment, she turned, sniffling, and gawked at the former Lord through her teary eyes.

Lord Hawkgirl was in her uniform, wings and all, sitting at the controls of the powerful computer systems, studying the monitors intently. Lois was keenly aware that she was a blubbering spectacle and her fear and sorrow melted into confusion and concern when she slowly realized that Shayera didn't even pay her any attention at all; she was just glued to the monitors. And her face was as hard as granite.

Lois turned to see what it was that occupied her so. There, on the biggest screen of all was a view of Lord Superman's cell. Batman was standing solidly above the slumped-over mass of Clark. His mouth was moving, but the sound was down. She could see that Clark was writhing slowly, and breathing heavily. After a few seconds, he lunged at Batman's knees and was rewarded with a clever move that brought a devastating elbow square between his shoulder blades.

He collapsed for a second, tried again, and again his attack was countered rather easily and he wound up face down on the floor.

Lois's breath was stolen from her lungs.

She was horrified to see the brutality and Bruce's frigid expression, but as sickening as it was to watch, she couldn't tear her eyes away. Before long, she discovered a building, morbid curiosity within.

"Is there any sound?" she asked Shayera weakly, not turning from the scenes.

Without a word, the volume was turned up and the two women listened in.

"_You chicken shit!"_ Clark's raspy voice growled. _"You'll NEVER break me!"_

"_We'll see,"_ Batman said coldly.

"_I was _RIGHT!_ I was _ALWAYS_ right! And every time you come in here you only prove my point!"_

Clark got up on his hands and knees, his head still hanging heavily.

"_And every time you utter your stupidity, you prove mine."_

"_Yeah? And what point is that?"_

"_That you're not Superman any more. You haven't been for a long time. You may have had his powers, but that wasn't what made him great."_

"_That's right! What made ME great was the WILL TO USE THEM!"_

Again, Clark dove at Bruce.

Lois's eyebrows knit in sheer confusion and helplessness. She knew these two men—especially Clark—better than most people. She knew of their past and their relationship. She had listened to Clark over the years as he described his frustration and his admiration and his distaste and his love for Bruce. She cataloged his changes as the Justice League reformed into the Justice Lords. She deliberately kept her mouth shut as her lover started speaking of Batman more and more as a tool to be used rather than a colleague and friend, but she lamented it just the same. She had the vain hope that it would pass.

She was wrong, it didn't pass. It grew worse.

Watching the two men, whom she knew to once be the best of friends, fight in a real struggle of hatred… it tore her heart to pieces. But she couldn't turn away.

She was desperately trying to see if there was any shred of the Clark that she fell in love with in that body. She was praying that Batman would have mercy and allow him to retreat with some degree of dignity. She was hoping against hope that Clark would start to realize what she had been too afraid to tell him; that he was losing everything.

_No, he has_ LOST_ everything._

Again, Batman subdued him without a speck of effort.

"_It's not the will that was wrong Kent," _Batman said. "_It was the motive. Just like everything else a person does, without taking _intent_ into account, nothing is fully understood."_

"_My intent was to make this a better world!"_

"_Really? You sure about that?"_

"_Absolutely!"_

"_And how's that working out for you?"_

"_Fine until you betrayed all of us!"_

As Batman continued to tower over him in dominant fashion, Clark's aggression seemed to recede and he rolled onto his side, then up into a sitting position, head still hanging.

Neither man moved or spoke for a few suspenseful seconds. Eventually, Batman turned to the look directly at the camera.

"_Shayera."_

Without saying a word to Lois, Lord Hawkgirl stood up and made her way briskly across the catwalk and through the door.

Lois watched the monitor as she came into view. Clark raised his head and his profile was all she could see of his face, but it was clear that his expression was intensely aggravated.

"_You, too?"_ he asked, although it sounded more like a statement.

"_No,"_ she corrected him. _"I didn't betray the Lords, Clark, or even you. I realized that the Justice Lords had gone too far—that _we_ betrayed the _world_ and I want to help make it right again."_

"_Yeah? Did you come up with this on your own or did _HE_ help you?"_

"_Both."_

Clark shook his head and laughed sadly.

"_Then you're either stupider than I thought or just as big of a coward as he is! Tell me, what exactly was it that changed your mind?"_

"_It wasn't any one thing,"_ Shayera answered, shaking her head. _"It was EVERYTHING. When I look back at where we were three years ago and compare that to where we were last month, I don't like what I see."_

"_Three years ago was _HELL!" Clark shouted, banging his fist against the wall. _"The corrupt had infiltrated every level of society all over the world. The masses were reduced to living like _CATTLE_ and the bastards in power didn't think twice about ruining whole communities for their own self-righteous whims!"_

"_And what are they now, Clark? Now the whole _WORLD_ is cattle and WE'RE the bastards in power."_

Lois hadn't noticed that Batman had slowly and stealthily moved outside the cell as the others talked. Without much warning, the Plexiglas shield slammed shut, separating Clark from the world once more.

The pause in the argument continued as she watched with baited breath. Clark leaned back against the concrete wall letting his legs flop out in front of him. He tilted his head back and she could see the swelling and bruising begin to form.

"_Clark…" _Shayera began.

"_Don't call me that,"_ he interrupted.

She paused.

"_OK. I guess that means I should call you Kal-El, because Batman's right; you're NOT Superman anymore."_

From Lois's vantage point it didn't look like he cared one way other the other.

"_Do you have any idea," _she continued,_ "why it is that he's keeping you here?"_

No answer.

"_He let you lobotomize the Joker, for Christ's sake. If he didn't think you had a positive role to play, don't you think he would have done something similar to you? Do you think he'd leave you in here if he didn't want you around?"_

"_Ever occur to you that he simply wants to get his kicks out of torturing me?"_

"_Actually, it has. But has it ever occurred to you that if that were really the case, then he would go about it without all the trouble of trying to help you change your mind?"_

Clark's head lolled over to look out at his 'visitor'.

"_You really are pathetic, aren't you? Do you honestly think that he's torturing me by beating me up? These are just bruises. What better way to torture a person than to force them to betray all that they hold dear?"_

Shayera's eyes wandered as she considered the truth to that question.

"_Of course you wouldn't know that,"_ he spat out, looking back at the imaginary point a thousand miles in front of him. _"You're so desperate to find something to cling on to that you don't even realize that he's already made you into what he wants you to be. Next thing you know, he'll be finding some way to take away your wings."_

That got her attention.

Clark noticed.

"_He already has, hasn't he?"_ he laughed.

She didn't answer.

"_He's already cowed you in and he's working on the rest of us. He wants to take us _BACK_ to where we were when he still had enough power to influence our decisions. He's still stuck on that pathetic insecurity that he's become useless now. That the rest of us are realizing our potential and that he's still _just a man."

Shayera straightened her posture and replied with authority in her voice.

"_He DOES want to take us back. He wants to take us back to when we were HELPING the people of this world, not reigning over them."_

"_Yeah? Since you're so good at thinking back, then think about this; if he had attacked you a month ago… I mean _REALLY_ attacked you, would you have hesitated for even a second to kill him? Now, think hard, Shayera… if he had attacked you three years ago, how much would you have hesitated then?"_

"_The will to kill or not is _NOT _the issue…"_

"_He wants to control it all himself, you fool."_

"_Then why doesn't he just kill you?"_

"_You mean, besides the fact that he gets his power trips from torturing me? Simple: he doesn't want to make me a martyr."_

Lois jumped out of her skin when the Batman briskly took his seat at the controls next to her. She didn't even notice on the screen that he had left the training arena.

She silently watched him as his fingers assaulted the keyboards. Within seconds a secondary monitor showed a recording that the time and date stamp in the corner indicated was from earlier that day. It was a view that she recognized instantly…the Metropolis skyline. He continued typing commands and without having to be told, she could tell that he fed the image into the television in Clark's cell.

Clark painfully climbed up off of the floor and collapsed into the chair, watching with an expression of boredom plastered all over his bruising face. Shayera, too, had her eyes fixed on the screen as the image zoomed in on a single, tall building: City Hall.

The image continued to zoom and re-resolution itself into clarity until it was fixed on a window to the Mayor's office. The volume was turned up and two men were speaking; one was clearly the Mayor as his voice was so distinguishable. The other was unknown—until Perry White stepped into view of the window.

"_Mr. Mayor, I just report the news, I don't make it."_

"_I know, Perry. And I'm not asking you to print anything that isn't factual, you know that, but if you're willing to take the risk of reporting _THE WHOLE TRUTH,_ then I'm willing to put my career… hell, even my _LIFE_ on the line to back you up."_

"_So, you're saying that you'll stand up to the Justice Lords if they go after me for printing the results of this poll?"_

"_Absolutely! And if we play our cards right, the Governor will be in our corner too, for what that's worth."_

There was a solid pause before the Mayor spoke again.

"_Honestly, Perry. It's not the printing of the poll that you've got to worry about. The very fact that you even _CONDUCTED_ the poll could get you lobotomized!"_

The two men shared a nervous and forced chuckle. Before long, Perry closed the discussion.

"_Alright, then. Tomorrow's headlines will show how basically… if given a choice between President Luthor and the Justice Lords, the people of Metropolis would rather see _SUPERMAN _dead…"_

* * *

John Stewart watched Sinestro as he lifted his ringed hand and the eerie yellow glow extended towards him in a gentle column. As it grew closer, he could see that a Yellow Lantern ring was being offered to him.

Before it got too close, John's peripheral vision caught a hidden flash of green and a quick, shrill sound from the distance, making him turn his head to the right. In the inky darkness, he could make out something huge barreling through the sky; the stray stars eclipsed by the hulking mass flying in his general direction.

Sinestro caught it too, and he had just enough presence of mind to construct a protective bubble around himself as a rock the size of a house blasted into him like a freight train. The Yellow Lantern ring he was offering to John fell helplessly onto the dusty ground.

Like a shot, the Yellow Lantern erupted out of the rubble and into the night sky. He took a second to gain his bearings, and then he streaked off towards where the rock had come from.

Dumbfounded, all John could do was watch the yellow streak blaze over the nearby ridge half a mile away. Within seconds, yellow and green flashes exploded like fireworks from the valley beyond. The distant rumbling shook the ground and thunderous roars made his chest quiver.

He picked up the yellow ring and put it into his pocket before he started sprinting for the hillside and the supernatural flashes of cosmic battle.

He sprinted hard, trying desperately in the darkness to see his way over the uneven rocky terrain and to dodge odd branches and vegetation. He reached the base of the hill, one of the largest for miles around. He forced his tired legs to continue pumping as his thigh muscles screamed at him to stop. The brilliant flashes over the hill's crest grew brighter and more frequent.

Panting as he charged up the hill, John's excitement grew a streak of concern when he noticed that the flashes of green were growing fewer and farther between. The blasts of yellow never diminished, but the greens were less intense, less vivid. The ground trembled more as each yellow flash burst into the night and each faint green seemed more like a crackle than a roar.

John drove himself faster, harder. The first pangs of horror started to seep into his heart. He forced himself to run faster, to fly up the hill and to the other side.

Kat was in trouble.

The sweat was pouring out of his skin as he willed himself to sprint up the steep incline. His lungs burned, his rubbery legs threatened to fail him, yet still he ran.

The yellow bursts melted into one continuous yellow glow. The green ones seemed to stop altogether.

"NO!" he growled through clenched teeth as neared the crest.

The hilltop was within reach and John dug deep within to find the energy to run faster. He crested the peak and could make out a long, thin yellow glow stretched across the valley in front of him. He couldn't see the bodies clearly, but from his left to his right he could just make out that Sinestro was feeding a stream of power at an enormous boulder, driving it into the shrinking bubble that Katma Tui was desperately trying to maintain around herself.

"KAT!" John shouted as the scene infused him with a second wind.

Pieces of the boulder crumbled at the point of contact, dropping dust and debris on Kat's shield as it grew fainter and smaller with each passing second. Before long, a jagged crack started to spread in the energy.

With renewed invigoration and a concrete will to save his friend, John hurdled a fallen tree as he began his race down the hillside. He ran faster and faster, driving his feet to keep up with his momentum. He focused in on the boulder, his jaw grinding from his determination.

It was the boulder that became the focus of his entire wrath. In that moment, it was the one thing that he hated most in life. It became the symbol of all that he knew to be wrong… the evil he needed to destroy.

He was running faster, the loose rocks and obstacles not even registering in his brain. His legs felt like they were moving at an almost blinding speed, as if they had no connection to his body, but instead had a mind of their own. He leaned forward as he accelerated faster and faster down the slope.

A low guttural snarl grew from his throat. It bloomed into a rumbling in his chest and eventually into a primal roar from his mouth. Without warning every object in his vision paled as if it were drained of all color and the night's darkness melted away, yet the details of everything he saw became crystal clear. The landscape flew by him as he streaked at the boulder.

On their own, his arms stopped pumping and his fists stretched out in front of him.

So intensely locked was his focus that he didn't see the ground streaking beneath him. He didn't notice that his legs had stopped churning. He didn't care that he wasn't touching the ground anymore. He didn't notice that the colors of the landscape were so pale because of a blinding green glow radiating off his body.

And he didn't feel a single ounce of pain when his taught frame, spearheaded with his twin fists, blasted through the huge boulder with an apocalyptic explosion.

Streaking through the night sky, he circled around and found a new hatred to focus on.

He thrust his right fist in front of him and a devastating column of green energy erupted out at the enemy below. The cataclysmic explosion annihilated rocks and trees in all directions when John's might collided with Sinestro's desperate yellow shield.

When John pulled back, he saw his opponent standing disoriented on a single column of rock in the center of a titanic crater. Still hovering, he raised his fist over his head and growled out a tremendous battle cry. His ring constructed a huge green rod and as he swung it at his opponent, it molded into an enormous baseball bat.

As quickly as he could, Sinestro brought his fist to bear and tried to protect himself from the torrential impact. The green bat and the yellow shield exploded upon collision, and the more determined will won out; Sinestro was blasted off his rocky perch and flew head long across the landscape.

John streaked through the night sky once again on his mission. He honed his ring in on the alien power source and when he saw his enemy unsteadily regaining his feet, he thrust his fist forward, sending the green power to do his will.

The energy from John's ring melted into a mammoth bulldozer bucket and shoveled up tons of rock and dirt around Sinestro's disoriented body. The green bucket then enclosed the mass, compacting it down into a huge ball. John gritted his teeth and his left hand grabbed his right wrist as he concentrated all his effort on squeezing. After a moment of staggering effort, when an entire world of frustration had been flushed through his shaking fist, John regained a modicum of composure and collected himself with a deep breath.

Still holding his prey captive, John hovered high above the ground, considering his next option. He didn't flinch when Kat, exhausted and disheveled, appeared next to him in her own glowing aura.

"John," she started, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Killing him…"

"… Would be wrong," he sighed, his face relaxing for the first time of the night.

Kat's hand slipped off him as she let out a relieved breath.

"But a party's not over until you clean up the trash," he said, his brilliant green eyes growing shrewd.

With that, he swing his arm violently around and the ball of rock, dirt and debris, with the crumpled body of Sinestro still encased within, flung deep out into space at mind-boggling speed.

The two Green Lanterns kept their eyes locked in the direction it disappeared as they gently floated back towards the ground.

"He won't be able to free himself from that for a long time," Kat observed. "I'll send word to the Guardians to have a battalion pick him up."

When they landed, John absently looked at his right hand for a moment. He heaved a cleansing sigh, then he gently closed his eyes. Softly, the green glow engulfed his body and he lifted off the ground again. It was only a few inches and only for a few seconds, but his expression showed how much satisfaction and confidence was welling through him.

Kat watched with untold joy and pride spreading from her heart throughout her aching limbs. Then her eyebrows knit in confusion when she saw John's expression grow concerned. He locked his eyes on hers and she read worry where only a second ago she saw peace. He gently touched back down and gingerly reached into his pocket. When he pulled out the unused Yellow Lantern ring, she began to understand his concern.

She took it from his grasp.

"It wasn't _this_ that gave you power, John. It was your _will._ It was _your_ ring that let you do those things."

John's green eyes wandered in thought for a moment. Then, as if to make sure, his body began to glow and he lifted a few inches into the air again.

"See?" she asked, holding up the other ring.

"Yeah, I…" John said with some difficulty. "I know, Kat. But… it _felt_ different. It felt _dark_. I wasn't fighting him because of who he is, or what he represents. Part of me wanted to kill him. Part of me _hated_ him, Kat. And that's how _those things_ work."

He nodded at the ring in her hand.

"They work on _hate and fear_," he continued as if she didn't know that.

"You're right," she agreed. "_These_ work on hate and fear, but _these_ work on the will of righteous people wanting to uphold _justice_."

And her own ring started to glow.

"You wouldn't have been able to save me if your underlying motive wasn't justice, John. I'm sure you felt a streak of darkness. I've been there before, too. And given what's happened with you over the past two years, it's no wonder. But the ring can't be fooled, John. It's your intentions _behind_ your will that feeds the power."

He took a moment to consider how right she was.

"Come on," she suggested, lifting into the air. "Let's head up to the instructor's quarters and get a good night's sleep. I'll contact Oa and you can head back to Earth when you've rested up."

He gave her a moment's head start as he considered his intentions. He willed himself a few inches into the air yet again. While hovering, he deliberately thought of Batman. The image of killing him caused the green glow around him to sputter. Before he fell back to the ground, he focused on changing his visions. The thought of Batman behind bars brought his power back.

"Vengeance is not justice," he muttered to himself as he flew up into the dark night after Katma Tui. "Justice will be done."

* * *

AN: I could go on about why it took so long to get this chapter out. But I'm sure you're sick of hearing it. So, I won't bother. But for what it's worth, I'm sorry!


	12. Chapter 12: Rebuilding

**Disclaimer: DC owns the characters as far as I know. Kudos to them. Hope they use it well while they can. No profit is gained from this fic, but if anybody associated with DC wants to hire me, I'm willing to entertain offers!**

**AN: Hepburn continues to rock. She doesn't seem to know how not to. Thank you, my friend!**

* * *

Eternal 12: Rebuilding

ALPHA WORLD

Shayera found her way down to the disheveled kitchen to find Bruce reading a newspaper in the mid-morning sun. She helped herself to a bowl of cereal and she ate in silence while he browsed. Just as she was finishing, he spoke.

"Diana's coming back," he said nonchalantly without looking up from his paper.

"Really?" she asked with more disbelief than enthusiasm. "That's a lot sooner than you expected."

"Yes, it is. She must have been through something extraordinary if she's trying this early."

There was a comfortable pause in the conversation as Shayera picked up her breakfast dishes and crossed the kitchen. She washed them and set them in a drying rack. She was nosing around the cabinet under the sink when he spoke again.

"She's making her own way across the country," Bruce said. "She refused to let me teleport her here, pick her up or even send her any money for the trip."

Shayera stood up with a white spray bottle in one hand and a rag in the other. She seemed lost in thought for a minute, thinking about what he just said, before she turned her attention to the crusted-over goop on the stovetop and began to spray.

And spray and spray and spray.

"So," she observed, "either she's enjoying a newly-discovered amount of self-reliance or she's coming back here with plans of confrontation and still wants nothing to do with you."

Sitting at the dusty table, Bruce turned the page of his Daily Planet.

"I think it's her self-reliance."

Shayera turned to study him.

"You sure?"

…

"Pretty sure."

…

"Better be."

Shayera started to wipe. Then she started to scrub. Then she gave up and started to spray again.

"How long before she gets here?" she asked.

"I'm guessing three or four days. Five tops."

Another long pause, only this time not so comfortable.

"Are _you_ ready for her to come back?"

He drew in a deep breath through his nose before answering.

"I'll have to be, won't I?" he sighed.

"That's not what I asked, Bruce."

"I know."

She started scrubbing away at the mess again before continuing. The tone of her voice was light and simple despite the magnitude of the topic.

"Do you still love her?"

He didn't answer right away. After a moment, she turned to catch him deep in thought.

"I might," he said with very little emotion in his voice as compared to his eyes.

"Might? Don't you think you should have a better answer than that before she gets here?"

"By the time she gets here my feelings will be irrelevant."

She sighed and shook her head, turning her attention back to the stove.

"Good grief, Bruce," she said with a hint of exasperation, scrubbing again. "I would have thought that by now you'd have found a way to act like a human."

He didn't respond and she found herself getting goose bumps for some reason. She turned around.

Glare.

"I'm serious," she tried. "What you two had was pretty spectacular… and you know me; I'm not exactly one to fawn over sappy romances."

The glare faded.

Another pause. Nowhere near comfortable.

"Y'know Bruce, that ploy of the five of us staying off-planet is only going to work for so long. And if we can get J'onn back to rights then we're going to have to come up with…"

"Go ahead and ask me about John, Shayera," Bruce interrupted her.

She paused and gawked at him. She wasn't so much upset with him for interrupting as much as she was astounded that he had seen through her approach. She gave in and asked what was really on her mind.

"OK, how long do you think it will be before he comes back?"

"_IF_ he comes back, you mean?"

She balked. She honestly hadn't even considered that he might not come back.

"He'll come back," she declared with as much certainty as she could fake.

Bruce turned another page in his newspaper. She sprayed and scrubbed some more.

"Are _you_ ready for him to come back?" he asked.

She scrubbed harder. Harder and harder and faster.

"Shayera," he said from right behind her.

She jumped, slamming the rag down on the stovetop. She had no idea that he had set the paper down, left the table and walked across the room.

Spinning around she met his eyes.

"_When_ John comes back," he began deliberately with a non-Batman voice, "he'll either be a Green Lantern again or a civilian. Either way, he'll need you."

Her eyes drifted down as she nodded. It was a heavy realization to ponder.

Uncharacteristically, Bruce offered some emotional support by firmly placing both of his strong hands on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. With a nod and a subtle smile he left the room.

"I have some errands to run today," he said on the way out.

* * *

BETA WORLD

Alfred wasn't surprised to see that his visiting charge was not in his bed, nor that the bed was unused. It wasn't the first time that a Batman returned from patrol only to continue working through the night.

He completed his morning duties around the manor and eventually found his way down to the Batcave, expecting to find him battering the computer keyboard with log entries or hunched over some microscope. Instead he heard Alpha Bruce punching and the short, tight breaths that usually accompany hand-to-hand combat moves.

He crossed the catwalk to the door of the training arena to see the Ex-Lord Batman still pummeling the heavy bag.

"Good morning, sir."

"G'morning," he grumbled, not interrupting his training.

Alfred took in the sight. No shirt, body drenched with sweat, hands taped… water bottle and towel on the bench… the unmistakable look of raw anger in the steely-blue eyes. He had been doing this from the minute he returned from patrol. This Bruce was trying hard to clear his mind of something particularly troubling… something very personal.

"I can see by your bare torso," Alfred began politely, "that there are no major injuries to tend to today. I hope that is a good sign of a successful patrol."

"It was a slow night."

"Ah, excellent."

Alfred let Bruce stew in the uncomfortable pause. After a measured moment, he began his investigation…

"Your schedule today is fairly open, sir. Since I see you haven't gotten to bed yet, shall I clear your schedule so you can…"

"No."

"Very good, sir."

Bruce stopped and lazily grabbed one of the chains holding up the bag. He rested his forehead on his sweaty bicep and panting, eyed the butler suspiciously.

"Are you always this formal with your own Batman?"

"When the occasion calls for it," he answered cryptically.

"And what about now? If I was him, would this be one of those occasions?"

"Probably not."

Bruce started walking towards the towel and the bottle of water on the stainless steel bench, unwrapping the tape from one of his hands as he did.

"Then let's have it," he said, not looking at Alfred.

'_Time to help him forgive himself,'_ the old butler thought.

"Something happened last night to make you stay up after patrol driving yourself so mercilessly."

Finishing the tape on one wrist and starting the other, Bruce nodded.

"Go on."

"Along with the fact that you seem to be free of any new contusions or lacerations, I would think that you engaged in something very personal. Had it been an unfortunate scene of depravity, I would have expected you at the computers, investigating suspects or old police reports. Since you came in here, however, I would think that it wasn't anything of that sort, but something more _personal._ Perhaps you had an encounter with somebody? Maybe an unexpected visitor in the city."

Bruce's eyebrows rose as if he were impressed. To Alfred, that was confirmation that he was on the right track.

"I know that Flash is aware of the fact that you are who you are, and given the fate of the Flash of your world, I can envision how a deep discussion with him could be very stirring for you. However, unless you called for him, Flash would never dare to enter Gotham on his own accord."

"It wasn't Flash," Bruce confirmed.

"Ah… Well, then, I would place a rather large wager that it was Superman or the Princess."

Bruce took a long draw of water while Alfred continued to ponder aloud.

"While Superman certainly does manage to raise your ire on occasion, the look in your eyes suggests something very personal is at play… so I would have to believe that you had a talk with the Princess last night."

"It was Diana," Bruce confirmed as he toweled some of the sweat off, and looked directly at him. His eyes told so much... It was easy to see that there was still ample frustration behind them.

"She knows, doesn't she?"

"Yes, she does," Bruce, sighed.

"And?"

"You're doing this well so far, aren't you going to keep digging?"

Alfred forced a simple smirk.

"I know how to choose my battles, sir."

Bruce sat on the bench, elbows on his knees, and rubbed the sweat out of his tired eyes.

"What's going on between your Bruce and Diana?"

"I'm afraid that isn't for me to…"

"Alfred, please. I'm not asking you to tell me anything confidential, but I have to know. How do they feel for each other?"

The older Englishman drew a large breath, thinking very deeply for a moment. He tried to project the most basic expression he could while he reduced the ridiculously complex situation into a ridiculously simple evaluation.

"I believe that they have very strong feelings for each other, but neither one wants to admit that they do or act upon those feelings."

"Pretty clinical, Alfred," Bruce accused lightly.

"To be otherwise on this subject would be foolhardy."

"Fair enough," Bruce huffed with half a smirk.

Still hunched over, Bruce sat studying his hands.

"Sir, may I be so bold as to offer on observation?"

"Alfred, please. Could you drop the proprieties for minute and just talk?"

"Very well. Of course, I cannot say with any certainty what kind of woman your Diana is, but I can say with all conviction that there isn't a more pure soul on _this _Earth than the one you spoke to last night. If you were just torturing that innocent punching bag because you were trying to vent off frustration for things that you may have said or left unsaid, then I would have to remind you that no one can be trusted more than Princess Diana. Instead of feeling any degree of guilt or remorse over opening your heart to her, I would suggest you take this opportunity to analyze what it was exactly that you said. Even more importantly, think about _why you said it._"

Bruce turned his tired head to look up at him.

"If she knows that you're not the Batman of this world, then she's wise enough to not hold _him_ responsible for _your_ words or actions. You've been given a great opportunity to actually exorcise some of your demons, Bruce, and a more faithful accomplice could not be asked for. So before you think about wasting another minute today chastising yourself for opening up to her, I would suggest that you simply count yourself lucky and take comfort in the fact that you're a better man for having talked to her."

…

"She's that remarkable, huh?"

"And then some."

Bruce nodded slightly before standing up. He slung the towel around his neck and made for the door.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir… is that the way your Diana is?"

"Was."

"I see," Alfred replied, not able to keep his eyes from drifting down with a touch of sadness.

"She _was_ that way, but thanks to me, she's not anymore."

"_You_, sir?"

"It's alright, Alfred. With your Bruce's help, we'll see if we can't bring back a Princess that's a little more like the one you have here."

"And what about you?"

"Me?" Bruce asked, almost shocked.

"Yes, sir. What about your spirit? Can you be brought back to where you once were? If the Justice Lords are to truly be reformed, they'll need a real Batman to keep them in-line. Your life needs to be renovated as well."

"My spirit doesn't matter."

* * *

ALPHA WORLD – Arkham Asylum. The last remaining secure cell.

"Yes, Officer Hargrove, I have read _Mark_ _Twain_, and while I found his particular brand of humor admittedly amusing, I couldn't help but to feel saddened at the apparent waste of potential talent. You see, had Mr. Clemons been fortunate enough to possess a complete and classical education, then one could easily imagine how his works would have been greatly improved, rather than to…"

"I don't know, Doc," the prison guard interrupted. "I think it was his lack of formal education that made him the man he was. Anything other than real life experiences would have probably ruined his writing style."

"You make an excellent point. As it is, I will continue to read my Cervantes for a healthy dose of intellectual humor and save _Connecticut Yankee_ for a more light-hearted time."

The guard nodded politely and left the unique inmate to his books. He strolled casually along the gloomy corridors, past the other heartless cells, long since emptied, and made his way towards the guard shack. After being buzzed through the security door he checked in with his shift supervisor.

"Hargrove, haven't I warned you about keeping up your guard around prisoner 8675309?"

"Uh… yes, sir," the guard responded, although it sounded more like a question.

"Well, then I suggest you take it to heart. I know you're new and I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but that _monster_ is the reason why three of your predecessors aren't here."

"Sir?"

"_They_ talked to it, too. Like it was a person."

"Isn't he a person, but just…"

"_IT_ is NOT a person," the supervisor interrupted. "_IT_ is an abomination that should be destroyed. What the Justice Lords did to the others wouldn't cut it with that one if you ask me."

Hargrove regarded the older man with thick curiosity.

"You can't be serious. I mean, they took down the _Joker_ for cryin' out loud and made him a model prisoner. Are you trying to tell me that this guy's worse than him?"

"Worse? I guess it depends on what you mean by '_worse'._ Sure, Joker killed more people than it did, but when it comes to sheer intelligence, there aren't too many people left on the planet that can hold a candle to it."

"Why do you keep calling him _it?"_

"_Because it's not human!_ The guards that came before you… it talked one into leaving his wife because it convinced him that she was an alien spy. It convinced the other to help it escape and it talked Rogers into committing suicide! You think you're talking to a _human_ that just happens to be trapped in an animal's body. You're not. That thing is a psychopathic, maniacal, twisted _genius_ that gets its kicks off of tormenting people because it's bored."

Hargrove sat and considered for a moment as he peered out through the reinforced glass, down the hallway and at the little striped shadow spilling onto the wall across from the door of cell 52x.

"If what you say is true, then why don't the Lords take him out?"

"In case we need him for questioning," a deep baritone sounded behind them.

Both guards spun around to see Lord Batman looming in the doorway.

"Uh, sir!" the supervisor stammered, jumping to his feet. "I wasn't aware you were coming…"

"This is an unscheduled inspection, sergeant. Is there a problem with that?"

"NO! Uh, no sir."

Without another word, Lord Batman shoved between the two men and typed several commands on the keyboard of the security consoles. Within seconds, the monitor showing the hallways outside cell 52x went black. He then turned on his heel and stood tall, staring down the two guards.

"No interruptions," he commanded before he stormed out of the security door.

Lord Batman marched briskly down the hallway and stopped at The Ultra Humanite's cell door. The pale pink eyes of the albino gorilla reading _Don Quixote_ looked up over the top of his book to see his ominous visitor studying him intently.

"Good evening, detective," Ultra said politely. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

* * *

"Ish any bah-dee dey-are?"

Shayera barely heard J'onn.

She sat up on the couch and reached for the new communicator that she and Bruce had programmed. Quickly putting it into her ear she heard him ask again.

"Herlo? Shy-eer-rah? Bath-man?"

"I'm here, J'onn. It's me, Shayera."

She stood up and left the parlor, heading for the study and the secret cave entrance. She was halfway down the hall before he spoke to her again.

"I did-n't know if you where dey-are."

"I'm here, J'onn," she repeated in as comforting a voice as she could.

His own voice didn't display very much emotion, but she could tell by the way he was talking that he had been lonely… maybe even a little frightened.

He didn't speak for a while after that and the locking mechanisms on the grandfather clock were just engaging behind her as she headed down the cold concrete stairs into the cave before she broke the silence.

"What's on your mind, J'onn?"

"Eb-ree ting."

"Everything, huh? That's an awful lot," she said as she made her way to the computer consoles.

He paused again.

"Yesh. It ish."

"Well, what part of _everything_ has your mind so occupied today?" she asked without thinking.

"Ish it day? I don't know da time."

"It's almost noon. I was reading a little before I made some lunch."

…

"What wuh-her you read-ink?"

"Cicero. He's an ancient Earth politician and philosopher."

"I tink I know of hmm. Hee wash Ro-man."

"That's right."

She finally managed to manipulate the computer monitors to show J'onn's cell.

The pause grew awkward and long. Having a conversation with J'onn had occasionally been difficult for her in the past, but given the circumstances and his situation, it was verging on uncomfortable for her now. She didn't have any inkling about what was going through his head, or how she should act towards him.

"Was there anything you wanted to talk about?"

"No," he replied with some difficulty – not because of trouble forming the word, but because he didn't seem to honestly know the answer to her question. She didn't believe him entirely.

"Oh, well, then… can I get you something to eat?"

"No, tank you."

She sighed as yet another awkward silence brewed between them. As if sensing each other's discomfort, they both spoke at the same time.

"I could get you some…"

"I haff been tinking ah-bout…"

She huffed out a slight chuckle and asked him to speak first.

"Shy-eer-rah? Could you puh-leeze read to me?"

"Of course, J'onn. Let me get my book."

* * *

"So you're interested in the Meta Countermeasures that I was working on all those years ago! Well, I must say, that subject is something that I haven't given much thought to in some time. Quite some time indeed!"

Batman stood outside Humanite's cell, leveling a full-out Batglare at the creature. He knew it wouldn't have much of an effect, but he kept at it—if only for his reputation's sake.

"Are there some Meta-powered beings giving you and your Justice Lord cohorts trouble these days?"

"There's no trouble and you know it."

Ultra locked his pink eyes on him for a second. It wasn't long, and although the facial expressions of an albino gorilla with a freakishly mutated and bulbous head can only betray so much, it was quite clear that the few moments were more than enough time for his unparalleled genius to process many, many things.

"Perhaps you're referring to the sanitized news and information with which I'm allowed to pass my time," he said off-handedly, waiving at the television. "You're correct… I haven't heard any news in recent days that suggests your iron fists aren't still firmly in control."

Batman stayed neutral. Stayed unmoving. He was fully aware of the intellect on the other side of the cell door. He kept his glare stone cold and hard while he peered through the little rectangular window, the steel bars casting striped shadows on his face. He knew that he had to call upon all his ability to not give away a single card of his hand.

Still, the prisoner pondered.

"I wonder, then… if there aren't any rogue Metas for you to subdue, why you would be so interested in those studies? To my count, any being powerful enough to consider challenging your authority has been lobotomized, destroyed or vanquished to some other dimension. Even those imposters haven't been seen or heard from in quite some time, so one can only assume that you managed to eradicate them as well. So, tell me detective, what is it that brings you all the way down here to my humble cell door to ask me about technology and studies from several years ago?"

"I'm curious," he bluffed. He knew it was a non-answer, but if he gave no answer at all, he also knew that Humanite wouldn't allow the discussion to move forward.

"Ah… now _that_ is interesting," Humanite responded, sitting up in his chair with a gleam in his pink eyes. "Curious about what? I wonder…"

Batman immediately knew he made a mistake in bluffing with that word. Perhaps it wasn't as much of a bluff as a mental slip.

"Could somebody else have made the same discoveries I did and is now threatening your reign? No, I'm fairly certain that is not the case. Since Luthor's dead, I calculate that it would take at least ten more years for anybody to make the same breakthroughs that I did over three years ago. Well, with your banishment of many leading types of study programs, perhaps fifteen years…"

"Tell me where to find your files," Batman interrupted, trying to gain some kind of control on the interrogation.

"I wonder," Ultra continued as if the demand was never made, "why you didn't bring the Martian down with you to rip the information from my mind… Could it be that _you_ are interested in this technology for _personal_ reasons? Reasons that you don't want _them_ to know about? Are you curious in knowing what makes your partners tick?"

The prisoner leveled a keen and malicious stare through the bars. The gaze was so direct into his eyes, that, for a moment, Batman wasn't even sure if his eye lenses were in place.

"I'll make you a deal, detective."

"You'll answer my questions," Batman scolded strongly.

"You're in _no_ position to demand anything, sir! What little I have left in this world is very much useless to me and there is no physical pain that you can threaten me with that could compare to what I've already been through."

"You'd be surprised."

Humanite smirked. Before continuing, he sat up and smiled arrogantly.

"If you tell me what you _really _need the technology for, I will tell you all the locations of my files and equipment. Otherwise, get out of my sight."

* * *

**AN: Yes, I've brought the Ultra Humanite into the story. If you've read "The Powers That Be" (shameless plug - another story of mine), you may understand why Batman is visiting him. In coming chapters, we'll have cameos from another few characters from that story as well. I'm TRYING to write Eternal so that you don't have to read that one, but if something is unclear, then please let me know! So, for now, let me just summarize that The Ultra Humanite's history in the Justice Lord world has him constructing something similar to what Lex Luthor used in "A Better World"... a Power Disrupter. Batman's just doing some more research is all...**

**I wrote "The Powers That Be" in just over a year. It had 34 chapters. I've been writing this one for over 2 years and only have 12 done so far. Sure, I've been busier, but in reality, this story is much, much harder for me to write because, to me, it's actually 7 stories all rolled into one. I had actually considered trying to write individual stories for each character one at a time, but that scared the &#*% out of me. So, I hope that this one isn't too cumbersome. There's a LOT of jumping around because I'm trying to show each character taking their own journey towards their own destiny-all at the same time. That's a daunting thing to try to undertake, so hopefully that explains why this is taking me so long! Thanks for your patience!**

**Hey Kirby: Is John's thinking really that disturbing? Put yourself in his shoes! Thanks!**

**Yo! ReadingCat: You're starting to worry about Clark? GOOD! Means that I'm doing something right! Thanks!**

**L: (you need a longer name) I had mentioned earlier that this story, by it's very nature, is much more introspective then physical. So, when it comes to the action scenes, I'm trying very hard to make them visually stunning. Thanks for the feedback!**


	13. Chapter 13: Best Laid Plans

**Disclaimer: DC owns the characters as far as I know. Kudos to them. Hope they use it well while they can. No profit is gained from this fic, but if anybody associated with DC wants to hire me, I'm willing to entertain offers!**

**AN: I'm back... for a moment at least. Thanks to Hepburn for helping me out on this and a lot of other things! **

* * *

Eternal 13: Best Laid Plans

Bruce and Shayera sat at the Bat computers. He was running a simulation for her, outlining his next plan. The huge monitor showed the Watchtower somewhere over the southern Indian Ocean.

"The covert satellite that I had Katma Tui place in orbit is at the edge of the solar system. From Earth's point of view, it is generally opposite from the sun. As you can see, at noon tomorrow Gotham time, the Watchtower will be over Perth, Australia, where it will be eleven o'clock at night."

A few keystrokes and the image zoomed out to show a profile of the solar system, indicating the relative positions of the sun, planets, moon and the satellite.

"We'll send a subspace transmission from here like we did before. The technicians on the Watchtower will think it's coming from the Javelin in deep space. We'll report that one of the navigation components is misaligned and we need the Watchtower to send a high-power subspace homing signal in our direction so we can plot our trajectory back to Earth."

On a secondary monitor, the schematics and construction details for the Watchtower sprang up. The image panned around and zoomed out, highlighting the transmitting and sensor arrays primarily used for object tracking, deep space communications and other sensitive activities.

Upon Batman's command, his computer showed the simulation of what would happen to the Watchtower's capabilities if a prolonged, high-power subspace transmission were to be sent on a focused path into deep space. The power of the transmission would damage the sensitive scanners and receiving antenna.

In short, while the subspace transmitter was on at a power level that high, the sensors would have to be off.

"I never thought of that," Shayera admitted, watching the huge monitor of the Bat computer.

"Neither had I until just a few days ago," Batman answered. "Otherwise, I would have found a way to avoid it so that nobody would try what we're about to do."

"And, what exactly is it that we're about to do?"

"Launch the Javelin undetected and take it in the opposite direction."

"Why?"

"So we can bring the rest of you back from deep space."

He typed a few more commands. A third screen displayed the flight path that Javelin 3 would take out of the Batcave at noon, directly from the Earth and towards the new moon. Once there, it would use the moon as a 'shield' and head past the sun at high speed. With the Watchtower on the other side of the planet, with the Earth and the moon acting as shields, with the sun's light and radiation masking the direction, and with the Watchtower's more powerful sensors temporarily blacked-out, the Javelin would be virtually invisible… for a few minutes at least.

"Once it's at a sufficient distance—but BEFORE the Watchtowers sensors are back on-line—you'll use the on-board wormhole generator to-"

"_I_ will?" she blurted

"Yes, you," he answered simply, turning to look at her.

"I thought we were going to have the androids on board."

"We are, but not for you. I can only program the Javelin with so much. We need somebody on board for contingencies. Besides, once you dock with the Watchtower, the hangar crew will-"

"The Watchtower?"

He leveled his hard blue eyes right at her green ones. It wasn't a glare, per se, but it wasn't a very warm look either.

"Yes, the Watchtower," he declared. "Protocol states that the Javelin reports to the Watchtower hangar as soon as possible after a deep space mission for maintenance and supply replenishment. If we don't follow protocol we run too many risks."

"Risks? What about the risk of the androids being recognized? What about the risk of them knowing that I've been stripped of my powers?"

"You gave a convincing enough performance for them the other day."

"That was different," she protested. "That was a telecommunication on a small screen. _This_… " she waived at the computer monitor. "This is something else entirely. You think that I can wander around the Watchtower in my condition and not raise anybody's suspicion?"

"First of all, you don't have a _condition._ Secondly, everybody up there knows that you have a cranky side and they avoid you like the plague when you're in one of your _moods_. Use that to your advantage."

She sat back somewhat uncomfortably. She was too uneasy about failing to be insulted by his jab at her attitude problems and the fact that it was like the pot call the kettle black. Her face twisted with concern and apprehension, but she had trouble finding holes in his plans… of course.

He continued.

"As I was saying, you'll use the wormhole generator to transport to these coordinates," he instructed, indicating some complex numbers on the screen. "When the Watchtower sensors come back up, they'll detect your arrival. However, they'll think that you just came in from Markalonis VI. From there, you can pilot the Javelin under normal power."

She sighed, her eyes sliding up to watch the rest of the simulation. He made it sound so simple. And she couldn't find any fault in his meticulous planning. Despite her anxiety, the first seeds of confidence started sprouting in her heart.

"Once you arrive, its business as usual. You'll off-load your own equipment and the maintenance crew will tend to the ship. Remember to act tired and annoyed. We'll program the androids to appear impatient as well. They'll report directly to their respective private quarters and stay there for pre-programmed intervals. Later, they'll use their com-links to request site-to-site teleports to various locations on the surface."

He continued to outline how the Superman android will report to Lois's apartment in Metropolis. Lois was instructed to expect it and once it arrived, to de-activate its com-link and simply keep it stored in the closet until Batman told her otherwise.

The Diana android would teleport to the Batcave. Although rocky and strained, their relationship was common knowledge and the Batcave's coordinates were locked into the teleporters under security layers that kept the true location a secret.

"J'onn's android will simply stay in his quarters, simulating a hibernation cycle."

"And what about the Lantern android?"

"It won't be there."

"WHAT?"

"Think about it, Shayera. The real John Stewart is in deep space right now. We'll log that he had to report to Oa – which he's actually doing. That will reduce the risk of suspicion when he actually comes back."

"_If _he comes back," she mumbled.

"As for you," he continued, ignoring her sad observation, "go ahead and make whatever rounds you like. Visit the cafeteria, stay in your quarters… whatever. It won't be too hard to fall back into your old routine. But if I were you, I would avoid trying to do a work out."

"Good point," she agreed sadly.

"When you're ready, call me on an open channel and tell me that you want to discuss something that happened while you were gone. There won't be any questions from anybody about why you'd be teleporting to the Batcave."

She took a second to see if she could formulate any objections or logical counters, but she couldn't. She had to concede that his plan was most likely the best way to stage their 'return'. She heaved an accommodating sigh, glanced into his eyes and nodded.

He responded with a nod of his own before turning back towards the computer console.

"Was it this hard to fake it when we left?"

"No. I had an unmanned drone mimic the Javelin's radar signature. It used an auxiliary wormhole generator to send it into deep space. It came out about a thousand miles from the surface of a white dwarf star, so I imagine that it's been obliterated for some time now…"

She huffed out half a laugh, shaking her head in amazement.

"I gotta hand it to you, Bruce. You think of everything. Even after all these years, you still manage to impress me."

He didn't stop his typing, but she could see hints of the smirk he was fighting to hide.

* * *

As predicted, the return was fairly uneventful. Even if there was something that wasn't perfect, there was no need for anybody on the Watchtower to suspect anything out of the ordinary. That, and the fact that the general fear of questioning the Justice Lords' actions was still a very powerful deterrent from inquisitive types.

Bruce had only been partially right. It didn't take long for Shayera to fall back into her normal role as a Justice Lord—as far as the Watchtower staff was concerned. People avoided looking her in the eye. They called her 'ma'am'. They stood to the side of the corridor as she marched past.

However, Bruce had been wrong about one thing; she wasn't able to fall back into her old routine on a personal level. Every scowl was deliberate. Every narrowing of her eyes was calculated. She had to struggle to maintain her posture under the weight of her wings. The aluminum mace that they fabricated to replace her Nth metal one was lighter and easier to carry, but not _that_ easy. She was fairly certain that she _looked_ like Justice Lord Shayera, and that gave her a sense of confidence in a way.

But the fact that she was growing more and more uncomfortable about actually _being_ Justice Lord Shayera gnawed at her, too. More than ever, she regretted the fact that the mere sight of her brewed fear into people – especially into the Watchtower Staff, a close-knit body of individuals that she was once able to talk to on relatively friendly terms. She reminded herself that this was only temporary – just for show – until Bruce enacted a plan to establish a New Justice League. That helped—but only a little.

She ate in the cafeteria. She inspected the monitor womb. She asked the shift supervisor of the reactor maintenance crew for a report. She eventually found herself in her quarters, absorbing the comfortable familiarity of that old home.

She took a nap.

After she was teleported to the Batcave, Shayera found Bruce in his uniform sitting at the computers. She plopped down in the seat next to him and waited for him to finish typing whatever it was that he was typing.

"We have a mission," Batman told her, closing selected files and folders.

"A _mission?"_

She wasn't sure how that made her feel. The Justice Lords had stopped using the word 'mission' a long time ago. Once their grip on the planet was firmly in-place, 'assignment' had become more the norm. 'Mission' was a throwback to the more adventurous, less sterile days of the old League. In being such, it implied that the goal wasn't to quell an uprising or dissipate some college campus protest. It meant that they were out to right some kind of wrong.

Of course, either way she still lacked the confidence she once had. While healthy and strong for a normal human woman her size, she wasn't Hawkgirl anymore. No wings. No super-human strength. Fake mace. She still had her wits about her and she could imitate her old fearlessness—almost even _feel_ the confidence she once had… almost. But beyond that, what kind of contribution could she make on a 'mission'?

"Where are we going?" she asked, trying to sound sure of herself.

"To see Deloris Winters."

"Why her?"

That was a name she hadn't given much thought to in years. Why he would want to see her now was truly baffling.

"She's been working with Rhonda Yearling, her former agent," he said.

"Wasn't she the geneticist that was moonlighting as The Ultra Humanite's assistant?"

"Yes. Yearling was working for him, basically, against her will. Humanite had kept her under his thumb with blackmail. Her brother, David, was a heroin addict and because of that, Humanite had found plenty of ways to coerce her into his service."

"I remember something about that," she said, harkening back several years. "Isn't that why she was acquitted when Humanite was brought to trial over the ACCORD incident?"

"Partially. It was the reason why the D. A. gave her the opportunity to turn State's Evidence against him. Now she's working under Winters at her plastic surgery clinic."

His computer work done, Batman got up and made his way across the cave. Shayera swiveled in her chair facing him as he walked, but her eyes still wandered with her ponderings.

"Did Deloris ever find her fiancé… Clayface? What was his name… Matt Hagen?"

"I don't think so," he called out from somewhere inside the armory. "She started searching for him right after the Ultra Humanite was arrested, but there have been no reports of Clayface or Matt Hagen in over two years. So either Winters hasn't found him yet, or they've been keeping a very low profile."

Shayera digested the concept. For Batman to repeatedly refer to Deloris Winters as "Winters" meant that, in his mind at least, she was akin to a suspect of some sort. Along with that, from what she could recall about Clayface, he wasn't exactly a criminal mastermind. His brash approach towards life made it difficult for him to keep a low profile; so either he hadn't been found yet, or somebody was pulling his strings.

The concept of Rhonda Yearling working with or for Deloris was also very intriguing. It had come out that Deloris felt betrayed that Rhonda was in cahoots with the Ultra Humanite, especially because of the dangers and problems that Deloris and Matt had found themselves in before Humanite was arrested. Something deeper must be at play for Deloris to overlook Rhonda's betrayal.

Shayera's curiosity overflowed;

"Why would Deloris work with Rhonda after all that she had done?"

"Yearling is still a brilliant geneticist and transplant surgeon. She was just working as Winters' acting agent as a part-time job while she was completing some research. After everything that has transpired, Winters owns a successful cosmetic surgery clinic and employs Yearling because of her medical expertise. My guess is; Winters is most likely blackmailing her like Humanite did," Bruce answered, walking out of the armory.

He had a large weapon in his hands.

"Really?" Shayera asked, still deep in thought. "I wouldn't have thought that she was the blackmailing type. What does she have to gain by-"

Her words stopped with a hitch and her eyes popped open wide at what she saw Batman carrying: Her mace.

Her REAL mace.

She stared at it for a hard second, and then searched his soulless eye lenses for an answer.

"If we're going on a mission, you'll need to be Hawkgirl again," he explained.

She took a deep, troubled breath, leaning back further into her chair.

The shame and self-deflating disappointment at the very thought of how much she couldn't do any more made her heart sink deep into her gut. He was asking too much of her.

"Bruce, I can't…" she started.

"You can," he interrupted.

She shook her head, eyeing the weapon. Her hand slid down to her hip, where the aluminum replica mace hung, serving as little more than decoration. Without her Thanagarian strength, even the substitute was too heavy for comfort. She could swing it, use it to block attacks, but its imposing mass meant that she would have to completely adjust her fighting style. She couldn't brandish it like she used to with her old strength and her old mace… but at least she could wear it.

Her REAL mace, however, was something that actually made her uneasy now. It maybe even frightened her – not so much because of its mass, but also because of what it represented in her mind; her old life.

"That thing weighs at least forty pounds, Bruce. I can only just lift it with two hands… I won't be able to fight with it."

"Forty-two point six to be exact, and, yes, you _will_ be able to fight with it. You're trained on how to use virtually _anything_ as a weapon, so this is no different. Heavier, yes, but that's something you should easily be able to overcome and use to your advantage. Besides, you probably won't be fighting anybody… you'll just need to be there. People still fear the power of the Justice Lords and we'll be more effective if we show up together."

"Are you expecting trouble?"

"No. But it doesn't hurt to be prepared. So I want to make _sure_ we're prepared with a show of force. As you know, power perceived is power achieved."

"Yeah, I've heard that somewhere before," she admitted, her head lowering a little as she remembered it was one of John's favorite sayings.

"You'll also have an ace up your sleeve to help push your bluff."

"Meaning?"

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and composed himself. He brought the mace up in front of him, holding it almost reverently. To Shayera's surprise, it softly emanated a low humming noise. Gradually, the humming grew into a buzz and the shiny metal started glowing. Before long, white and silver energy was crackling all over the pointed mass at the end.

"That's IMPOSSIBLE… You shouldn't be able to do that," she muttered, somewhat amazed and more than a little impressed.

He released his breath and relaxed, lowering her weapon as it fell silent and dark.

"I know," he said, his voice a little drained, "but I can. It's not easy, but it's possible. If I can do it, so can you – more easily, in fact. You can practice in the car on the way there. If anybody has any doubts about our power, this will help change their minds."

* * *

The Batmobile roared down the highway. Shayera practiced boosting her mental focus using Batman's tips. Eventually, she was able to make her mace hum… then sizzle. He had been right—the mind control techniques weren't very different from those she used to employ before her mental capabilities were stripped. She just had to focus a little harder.

As they drove, Beta Batman continued to fill Lord Hawkgirl in on the situation and the plan. Eventually, he dropped a minor bombshell.

"Winters is insane."

"What? Really?" she asked, truly surprised. "How do you know that?"

"The Ultra Humanite told me."

"The WHAT?"

"The Ultra Humanite. He had distinct memories of when their minds were both trapped within her body three years ago. His theory is that the whole affair drove her insane. He also has pieced together what she has been doing these past few years. Keeping track of her was a hobby of his."

"But the trials afterword… the fact that she's been a respected and successful businessperson all this time… She opened that clinic. She's even been on the covers of some magazines."

"Oh, she's still intelligent… just insane."

Shayera pondered how that affected their approach as the sleek vehicle sliced passed the civilian traffic.

"Is that why we need a show of force?" she asked.

"Yes."

She got the distinct feeling that Batman had more to say. She waited. He kept silent. Finally she forced the issue.

"Batman, what's _really_ going on?"

"Winters is a meta, now."

"WHAT?"

"Humanite's theory is that she has an obsessive-compulsive disorder about physical appearances – mostly brought on by her ordeal with him and what it did to her body. Her venture into reconstructive and cosmetic surgery is a result of that. He was able to provide evidence from the simplest of sources… magazines, tabloids, Hollywood news bites… they all show that she's secretly undergone dozens of medical procedures."

"How do you know she's a meta?"

"The evidence implies that she murdered Ice Maiden. Because Yearling is, among other things, an expert transplant surgeon (something she perfected working with Humanite) Winters forced her to perform a full-body skin transplant. Since Ice Maiden's powers resided in her skin, Winters now has her powers. She has control over freezing temperatures, ice and other cryogenic capabilities. She's the one that murdered Morgan Edge last year while looking for Clayface."

"So, we're heading towards a fight right now?"

"Probably."

"You LIED to me?"

"Yes."

Shayera sighed hard as her head fell back against the headrest. She clamped her hand across her forehead and blinked hard several times as her anxiety twisted her guts into knots. She was NOT ready for a fight… At all.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"You wouldn't have come."

"You're DAMN RIGHT I wouldn't have come! I can't face a meta with powers like Killer Frost-"

"Actually," he interrupted, "she's probably more powerful than Killer Frost."

She covered her face with both hands and wiped her eyes roughly, sighing out her exasperation.

"There won't necessarily be a fight," Batman said with an uncharacteristically soft tone. "I'm simply going to ask her to relinquish The Ultra Humanite's old files and equipment. If she cooperates, there won't be any trouble."

"You're so full of shit."

"Either way, you don't have to worry. I'll do all the talking and if she's uncooperative, I'll take care of her myself."

She contemplated that concept; that she could simply stand back and let him handle everything. There was little doubt that he could handle one meta on his own—even one as powerful as Deloris Winters… maybe. But she also knew that she had to maintain appearances – to NOT run and hide when the fighting began. As if he could read her thoughts, Batman continued.

"I'll handle Winters… you'll have to go after Yearling. She doesn't have any powers, but she's brilliant and if she's still being blackmailed, she'll be somewhat motivated to keep serving Winters in order to protect her brother. If you can isolate her and offer her immunity in exchange for her testimony, we'll have better odds."

They took the exit off the interstate, drove a few lazy blocks through a relatively new office park and into the parking lot of a rather impressive-looking one-story glass and black granite building. The grounds had been treated in preparation for the upcoming winter and the fountain in the reflecting pool had been turned off. As they climbed out of the cockpit, a cool late-autumn breeze sent involuntary shivers down Shayera's spine. She took a deep, cleansing breath, glancing up at the cold, overcast sky. With a little effort, she hoisted her real mace out of the vehicle, trying to look like it wasn't far too heavy for her to manage.

They marched briskly up the walkway and burst through the glass doors into the immaculate reception area. The unfortunate receptionist jumped to her feet out of sheer surprise and stared at them slack-jawed as Batman led the way right past her desk and to a door labeled "Physician Offices".

When the locked door didn't budge, Batman blasted the young lady behind the desk with a deadly glare.

"Buzz us in."

"Uh, sir… I can't let you-"

Her protests were interrupted by the sound of Lord Hawkgirls crackling mace.

She buzzed them in.

The long hallway stretched past a half dozen office doors. They whisked by the first two and Shayera caught the stunned look of the doctors within as they looked up from their desks to see two Justice Lords strutting through their building. She found that their shock helped to embolden her. Their surprise and obvious intimidation helped her cement her own confidence. Her natural scowl came back a little easier than she thought it would. With each step, with each pair of wide-opened eyes, the anxiety she felt just a few moments ago in the Batmobile melted away and Justice Lord Hawkgirl resurfaced just a little more.

Finally, they reached the main offices at the end of the hall. Rhonda Yearling, a brilliant, statuesque woman that could have enjoyed a career as a runway model, was at a filing cabinet, thumbing through a folder. When she saw who was barging through her door, the folder slipped from her hands, the papers within scattering all over the floor.

Batman paid her no mind but continued to march through her ante-office right up to the double mahogany doors that undoubtedly served as the entrance to Deloris Winters' main office suite.

Rhonda raised a hand in protest and was about to stammer out her objections when she was suddenly distracted. The crackling energy of Hawkgirl's mace caught her attention. Her eyes widened, seeing the silvery shimmer snap and arc around the weapon's head. After a second, she panned up and Shayera's slight shake of her head told her that silence would be a better decision.

Batman stopped in front of the two doors and, surprisingly, knocked very politely. A rather melodic, but slightly annoyed voice rang out in reply.

"Come in, Rhonda. I hope you found those invoices…"

When Batman opened both doors briskly, the sweet voice stopped dead in the air. Shayera and Rhonda watched as the doors slowly closed behind the imposing silhouette of the Dark Knight eclipsing the rather shapely figure of a stunned Deloris Winters as she stood from behind her desk.

Shayera turned to look at Rhonda's rather attractive profile and waited.

Rhonda continued to stare at the twin doors, as if hoping that something might come out and rescue her from her current situation. After a second without any activity, she turned her saddening face to meet Hawkgirl's gaze.

"Rhonda Yearling?"

"Yes," she answered weakly.

"I'm here to offer you Immunity and safety in exchange for your testimony against Deloris Winters."

* * *

Green Lantern John Stewart activated his com-link as he passed the last remnants of the asteroid belt between Jupiter and Mars

When Katma-Tui and Kilowog took him to Oa, as far as he knew, the rest of the Justice Lords were still prisoners in the Batcave. He also knew that Batman had allowed him to leave… gave his blessing for it, even. So that left John to wonder what the current status of the rest of the Lords truly was now.

He also continued to ponder (as he had for most of the trip back) what Batman's reaction would be to his return.

Was there going to be a conflict? He didn't know. What he _did_ know was that the stability of his home world was in trouble every minute that the Justice Lords were not in power. And even if Lord Batman had managed to maintain some kind of peace while he kept the rest of them prisoner, that didn't justify his betrayal.

In any event, John would have to proceed logically. That called for calm, cool, considerate diplomacy at first. And if that failed, then an immediate and devastating strike would be a close second.

"Green Lantern to Watchtower."

"Watchtower. We're reading you, sir. Glad you're back!"

'_Glad to have me back? They knew I was gone? Were they expecting me back like this? What did Batman tell them?'_

He pondered for a few seconds longer than he realized and the technician called again.

"Sir? Do you have any approach instructions?"

John hesitated before answering.

"Report the location of the other Justice Lords," he demanded, making sure to keep any trace of concern or confusion out of his voice.

"Lord Wonder Woman teleported to Secure Location Alpha almost immediately after returning from your deep-space mission just after noon today. Lord Superman is in Metropolis—he teleported down about three hours ago. Lord Martian Manhunter is meditating in his quarters and Lord Hawkgirl also teleported to Secure Location Alpha about half an hour ago. She and Lord Batman are on assignment, investigating possible rogue meta activity."

Lantern absorbed the report carefully before responding. Again, he tried to keep his voice neutral and unassuming.

"Acknowledged."

'_Shayera and Batman are on assignment?'_ he wondered. _'Is she working _with_ him, now?'_

He only spared the other three Justice Lords a cursory thought. It really DID seem like it was business as usual.

The minutes ticked by as he tried to decipher the situation and plan his next move. The beautiful blue and white-swirled globe grew steadily bigger as he approached it with mind-numbing velocity. His ring homed in on the Watchtower, where he normally would report after a deep-space mission. As he closed in on the orbiting complex, with all its auxiliary satellites, he had a sudden change of mind.

"Watchtower, report Lord Hawkgirl and Lord Batman's current location."

"Aye, sir. Please stand by."

* * *

Rhonda Yearling blinked hard.

"Wh… What?" she asked.

"We know that you've been engaging in illegal activities," Lord Hawkgirl explained. "We also know that Deloris Winters has been blackmailing you like The Ultra Humanite did."

She barely finished her explanation before the twin mahogany doors exploded into the room, blasted off their hinges by Batman's flying bulk, an unworldly cold blast of arctic wind thrusting him across the office, slamming him into the far walls. His body crumpled to the ground and the frigid column of super-cooled air built a solid mass of ice around him.

Hawkgirl jumped back, but instinctively, automatically, the warrior within her prepared for a fight. The lumbering mace in her hands was no longer a liability, but indeed a weapon—its weight almost erased by her rush of adrenaline. She had fought with other weapons before and she was in a fight now. She no longer had to think about it. Heavier weapons… ungainly weapons… it didn't matter. The fighter within her knew how to make virtually any object a weapon. This was no different.

In a split second, her mind registered what was happening and she snapped her head around to gauge Winters. Strength or no strength, she was still a warrior, through-and-through. And she knew that the best defense is a damn good offence.

"Run for cover!" Shayera commanded Rhonda, taking one last glance as she started sprinting at her adversary.

To her surprise, she found Yearling smiling wickedly, her hand held in the air as if she were holding an invisible tray of drinks. That's when Shayera saw the office chair levitating behind her. Then it flew _at _her. She barely had enough time duck, and with the added weight of her mace, she was forced into a tuck and roll across the floor. She twisted and sprang up onto her feet, holding her mace low by her side, her back against the closest wall, trying to keep both opposing women in her view.

Instinctively, she knew she was in trouble. She had a telekinetic unexpectedly attacking her from her right and an even more powerful meta on her left. She was forced to downshift from offense to defense. She knew that she couldn't fly and that the heft of her mace prevented her from using speed. But she still had ample skill. She sure as hell wasn't going to go down without a fight!

Yearling struck first, sending another office chair at her head. Striding forward, Shayera swung the mace up as hard as she could at a sharp angle, trying desperately to infuse enough mental energy into it to sprout a few crackling sparks. The chair exploded upon impact, sending fragments and shards flying in all directions.

The momentum of her mace continued her around. She didn't fight it, she used it. She continued her graceful spin, closing ground forward, lowering her angle of attack into a full-out swing. It caught Yearling broadside and sent her smashing into a bank of black filing cabinets. Another half spin and Shayera planted her feet, facing Winters in a fighting stance.

The beautiful murderess raised both of her frosty hands wide over her head, taking an imposing step forward. Tiny sparkling ice crystals and cold fog grew in the air around her fingertips before a blizzard wind erupted out at Hawkgirl. She tucked her chin into her chest with her eyes shut tightly… bracing for the impact. She desperately held up her mace and willed with all her might for it to power up.

In a heartbeat, she felt a blast of heat rush by her and she heard a painful and muted grunt in front of her. She felt the frigid winds blast around her, but only on the extreme edges of her body… her wingtips, her feet. In front of her, she only felt powerful warmth. Surprised, she opened her eyes and looked up.

Directly in front of her was Batman's billowing cape. As it flapped she caught a soft orangey-red glow coming off his body. Another quick flap and she saw the bulky power supply that he had strapped to his back, feeding energy into his suit, radiating a sweltering heat around him.

He held his arms in front of his grimacing face, the torrential wind driving against him, ice and snow pelting his body, pushing him backwards. Shayera grabbed the ends of her mace and braced it across the back of his shoulders, helping to push him forward. Slowly, powerfully, the two worked together to close the ground on Winters. A small eternity later, Hawkgirl felt Batman's body shift, followed quickly by the sickening sound of a woman's face getting backhanded by a gloved fist. Immediately, the bitter winds stopped.

"DEL!"

The two spun around to see Yearling, frenzied and desperate, regaining her feet, a second later her pretty face dropped into a bitter scowl. Swinging her arms, her hands clawed through the air, she summoned every loose item in her destroyed, ice-covered office to fly at them. The two ducked and dove, blocked and dodged. Yearling's desk blasted out the enormous picture windows behind them. A potted plant clipped one of Shayera's wings, which painfully torqued her around. The two managed to dive to either side of the shattered doorframe and regain their breath. They shared a look of evaluation and nodded, confirming that they were both OK and ready to continue the fight.

"YOU BASTARDS!" Yearling's voice called out.

"Rhonda, stop!" Batman shouted back, a little to Shayera's surprise. "You don't have to fight for her anymore! Turn State's Evidence and we'll protect you! Help us put her behind bars where she belongs!"

"_Behind bars?" _Yearling cried back through obvious tears. "You think you can get me to betray the woman I love?"

Shayera couldn't hide the surprise in her expression as she looked to Batman for clarification. He seemed just as taken back as she was. After a second, his head bobbed a couple times.

"Who knew?" he quietly asked with a shrug.

Two wastebaskets flung by, stopped abruptly and reversed direction, the two former Justice Lords both dove out of the way with only inches to spare.

"It was bad enough that she couldn't get over that damn, idiot boyfriend of hers!" Rhonda shouted as a filing cabinet sailed past and out the shattered windows. "Do you know how hard it was to keep her from finding him all this time?"

The poor, distraught woman's voice faltered with rage and despair and desperation.

"She was finally coming around! She was almost ready to forget him!"

A tall floor lamp careened into Batman's half of the doorjamb, crumpling as the heavier end whipped around, almost taking his head off.

"We were finally going to be together!" Rhonda confessed, her voice breaking down into uncontrolled sobs.

Suddenly, the projectiles and flying debris stopped, followed shortly by the sound of a body collapsing to the floor. Shayera watched Batman peek around the corner, cautiously, carefully. A second later, his posture relaxed and he stepped into the other room. She peeked around, too, taking in the scene.

Rhonda Yearling was lying on her side, dazed and confused as if she had been knocked off her feet.

After a dizzying moment, she curled into a fetal position and started crying frantically into her hands. Shayera stepped past Batman, keeping her guard up, but realizing with each step that the fight was over. This brilliant young woman wasn't an enemy any more. She was a tattered soul, mourning a lost chance at love. She needed a comforting shoulder.

Batman spun around before Shayera even realized that she had heard a sound from the main office suite. Deloris had stirred back to consciousness and was gaining her feet, but nothing about her showed that she intended to continue her attack. Instead, her soft, sad eyes were locked onto her crying friend.

"I didn't know," she said softly as she stood up.

Slowly, silently, Winters walked past the two heroes and sank to her knees next to Yearling. She pulled her up and held her as she cried.

"I didn't know," she repeated quietly.

Sniffling, Rhonda closed her arms around Deloris's neck.

"I love you, Del," she confessed into her shoulder. "I always have."

Deloris held her back, stroking her disheveled black hair. After a tender moment, the two broke off the embrace and looked at each other.

"We can finally be together," Rhonda said with hope and relief and dreams in her voice.

Her face fell with confusion when Deloris shook her head gently.

"I'm sorry, Rhonda. I don't feel that way for you."

Rhonda's face twisted with sadness and betrayal as her eyes built more tears.

"But…"

"You're my friend, Rhonda. The best friend I've ever had, but we can't be together like that."

Rhonda's face twisted further into anger and rage. Her lips tightened and her jaw flexed with violent clenching.

When she saw this, Shayera instantly recognized that another fight could erupt at the drop of a hat. Before she knew what was going on, Batman sprayed a small cloud of potent sleeping agent around the two women and they immediately collapsed onto each other.

Quickly, strongly…_angrily_… Batman marched out of the ante-office and into the long hallway, Shayera following closely on his heels, hurrying to keep up. Most of the other physicians, staff and patients had fled upon hearing the commotion. A few, however, had stayed behind, hiding in stray corners. He quickly found a young doctor that was cowering under his desk, his office door still open.

"Who was it?" Batman demanded.

The timid doctor poked his head up from behind his desk.

"Who… Who was what?" he asked with a shaky voice.

"Somebody went into the main offices down the hall and left again. Who was it?"

"I… I don't know. I didn't get a good look at him. He was dressed in black… he ran by so quickly..."

The man didn't even finish his sentence before Batman spun on his heel, brushed past Shayera and back down the hall. He strode past the sleeping suspects and into Deloris's office. Her computer was on, but the monitor and keyboard had been blasted off the desk some time during the battle. After taking a second to right the machine and its components, he found a chair and attacked the keyboard.

Expertly, he navigated to the security camera access portal. Shayera watched over his shoulder as he quickly assessed all the different camera feeds that were available. Once he found the ones he wanted, he brought the history up on the main window section.

The first video they watched showed an angle looking down the long hallway, from the direction of the lobby towards Rhonda's ante-office doors. The footage was good quality as it was quite obvious that the system was state-of-the-art. Batman panned back several minutes' worth, turned the sound up and clicked 'play'.

The hallway started out calmly. A young woman walked out of one office door, reading some papers as she did. Then, her head quickly looked up towards the doors at the end of the hall. Muffled commotion could be heard. Then banging and smashing peeled out from the behind the locked doors. Other heads popped out into the hall, each one looking the same direction. Before too long, the sounds of destruction were erupting from the master office suite. People started walking, jogging, and _running_ down the hall towards the lobby, clearly on their way to vacate the building. Before long, muffled voices and shouting could be heard from the battle.

Then, a large, well-built man sprinted up the hallway. It was impossible to tell how large, but he could easily have been as big as Batman—if not bigger. He was dressed in black… what seemed to be an assault guard uniform, complete with bulletproof vest. However, instead of a riot helmet, his head was covered with a tight black balaclava.

He stopped outside the ante-office and listened. A quick moment later, he barged into the offices and almost immediately after, he sprinted back down the hallway, and out of view.

Batman immediately paused the video and slowly stepped it backwards, bringing the black figure back onto the screen. Frame-by-frame, he rewound the footage until the man was blasting out of the office doors, launching into his exit sprint.

In slow motion, Batman replayed the footage, carefully studying the figure… every step, every movement.

"Who _is_ that?" Shayera asked.

"I don't know," Batman mumbled.

Switching to one of the two camera feeds from the parking lot, Batman rewound the footage. They watched as the figure first burst into view from the side of the screen, streaked across the parking lot and into the clinic, only to blast right back out and off the scene a few moments later. It was as if this person came from virtually nowhere at a high-speed sprint, knowing exactly where he was going, exactly what he was getting himself into, and exactly what he was going to do.

Batman riffled through Deloris's drawers and found some paper and a pencil. He took a scrap and held it up to the monitor, the parking lot still in view, and gauged the length of the Batmobile. Then, he used the gauge to piece out the approximate distance between the front door and the spot where the figure left the screen.

He noted of the time that the figure exited the clinic and how long it took for him to sprint the distance. A few calculations later and Shayera saw the results in Batman's own hand.

The man could have easily been running at over 40 miles per hour.

"I don't know," he mumbled again.

* * *

**AN: I wrote "The Powers That Be" in less time than it took for me to get this chapter out after Ch12. I'll call it a hiatus. I'm sure many people thought I may have abandoned this story - no such luck. I can't stand not finishing something, and I promised too many people that I'd finish this one! So, I'm sorry it took a while - and to top it off, this chapter feels more like 'filler' than anything, but trust me - I tried to lace some significant happenings in this chapter. It should all make sense by the end.**


	14. Chapter 14: Melting

**Disclaimer: DC owns the characters as far as I know. Kudos to them. Hope they use it well while they can. No profit is gained from this fic, but if anybody associated with DC wants to hire me, I'm willing to entertain offers!**

**Don't get too excited. Sure, it's another chapter in a relatively timely manner - but that probably won't be a trend. I'll try. Beleive me, I'll try, but I can't make promises...**

**This chapter is still all set in Alpha World - where our Batman is trying to help the Justice Lords. I'll get back to Beta stuff in coming chapters - and don't worry, there will be some really good BMWW stuff coming up. (at least I _hope_ you find it really good!) But for right now, we're going to take care of something and expose a neat new twist.**

**Thanks again goes out to Hepburn for the invaluable help. If you enjoy this story at all, then I request you menally project mass quantities of chocolate at her. Maybe something will happen!**

* * *

Chapter 14: Melting

The Watchtower staff gave Batman and Hawkgirl's coordinates to John and he was surprised to find that their com-links were on and active – just like normal. He stayed high between the layers of cloud, skimming through the cool, overcast autumn sky towards their location, and then quietly dropped down to assess the situation. With the machinations running through his mind, he calculated that it would be best to approach them covertly, rather than overtly.

Confronting Batman was inevitable; he had single-handedly usurped power from the Justice Lords, illegally incarcerated them, and conspired to commit fraud by covering up the fact. He would have to answer for his crimes. However, now, with new revelations and new additions to the facts, John wasn't nearly as concrete in his convictions as he was when Katma Tui flew him to Oa only a handful of days ago.

Why did Batman allow her to take him back? She even told John that he wanted her to "get him back to where he needs to be". That included restoring him to the ranks of the Green Lantern Corps.

Why was Shayera working _with_ him now? Was she in on the conspiracy? Had she been from the start? Or did Batman just find a way to deceive her? Was it even the real Shayera?

Why was the Watchtower Staff acting so _normal?_ Didn't they know that the protectors of the Earth have been made impotent and were virtually eradicated by a possible madman? Weren't they aware of the peril?

Too many things didn't make sense now… not as much sense as they did when John was lying frustrated in that damned holding cell in the Batcave. Not being one to act rashly, and recognizing that cooler heads will prevail, John chose to investigate before he would retaliate… of course.

Along with that, Batman and Shayera were in a public place, clearly involved in some sort of altercation. To fly in and assault Batman in that kind of setting would do no good at all – for the situation, the perception of the Justice Lords or even for the safety of the public in general. No, John would wait quietly, observe, assist his "Teammates" if necessary, then, if and when the opportunity arose, he would serve as Judge, Jury and Executioner… just like the Green Lantern Corps mandated.

He floated silently above the clinic, watching debris fly out the shattered windows, listening to the screams and the shouts Rhonda Yearling was hurling at his former colleagues.

The screaming died down. The objects stopped flying out the windows. John floated lower to stand on the edge of the roof, listening… waiting.

He heard Rhonda crying.

He heard the admission of love, then the sad rejection.

Emotions. _Soft_ and _caring_ emotions.

Something he hadn't expected to encounter today. It took him by surprise… enveloped him, if only for a few seconds.

The moment was rare and surreal. Despite his solid perceptions… regardless of his rigid demeanor and cold determination… even with his lifetime of unemotional military bearing, this moment of tenderness… of love and trust and tenderness… it made John Stewart pause. It made him _feel._ The seconds seemed to last for minutes and John's otherwise stern approach melted away in the face of two women—two defeated criminals who had a bond of friendship and love amidst a world of ever-growing strictness and sterility. The concept of emotional connections and laughter and loyalty made John's mind swim in confusion. The warm comfort of memories he had long since forgotten—memories he had long since _discarded—_rushed back at him in a flash. He remembered laughing with Wally, holding hands with Shayera… good times with J'onn and Diana… even having fun with Clark and Bruce… he had that once. It wasn't completing the assignment that nurtured the nostalgia, no. It wasn't the job. It was the relationships he enjoyed. It was the synergy of their camaraderie. It was the _family_ that they had once been. He had forgotten.

The moment passed. His robotic sense of duty imposed itself and the softness within his heart crusted over again. Like a random breeze on a stagnant day, the warmth left just as quickly as it had come.

He shook his head slightly.

He waited. He listened.

It wasn't long before he heard Batman and Shayera discussing a stranger… somebody that was at the scene but had vanished.

Silently, he flew over towards the front of the building and used his ring to scan the parking lot for evidence. Whoever it was should have left behind something his ring could detect.

Footprints!

They were large - a man's footprints. And they were very far apart – as if the man were running at an exceptional speed.

He followed them. They stretched across the grassy landscaping, down the road for several hundred yards, then…

_GONE?_

The sirens from the dark vehicles of the Populace Suppression Squad grew on the breeze and John watched as they drove into the parking lot of the clinic. The men and women in ominous black uniforms, complete with helmets and tinted eye shields, burst out of the back of the largest van, and in two-by-two formation, entered the building.

John landed at the edge of the parking lot and walked towards the scene. It wasn't long before people started marching out: The Suppression Squad – carrying the limp, unconscious bodies of Deloris Winters and Rhonda Yearling, the doctors and nurses and other staff that had stayed behind… and then _them._

Batman and Shayera.

Batman, carrying Winters' computer, saw Lantern before she did. He didn't bother to acknowledge his presence, but just marched right towards the Batmobile.

Shayera barked out one last order to the Suppression Squad Commander about getting statements from everybody and confiscating all recorded evidence of the incident. Then, as she too turned to march towards the Batmobile, she finally saw him.

And stopped dead in her tracks.

The two stared at each other for a few bewildered moments. Her face was stuck between confusion and elation. His looked forcedly stoic, verging on angry due to the scowl was tugging the corners of his mouth down.

Batman didn't miss a beat. Climbing into the Batmobile, he called out to her as if she was listening.

"Shayera."

She didn't answer. She just kept her silvery green eyes locked on John.

Lantern, however, shook himself out of his trance and answered for her.

"She'll fly with me," he declared strongly, locking eyes with Batman in a showdown of willpowers.

The bitter silence didn't last long. Batman turned towards Hawkgirl and tried again.

"Shayera…" he called out, a hint of coaxing in his voice.

"John, I'm going with him," she finally said, a touch of regret in her voice. She didn't look at him as she walked briskly towards the car. "We'll meet you at the Batcave."

The disappointment John felt was immense. It brewed into anger, daring to explode into rage. He wasn't sure what to expect when he saw her again. His keen and thorough mind had considered everything from a romantic reunion, to a bitter fight and everything in between. But in all the possibilities that he had contemplated, the one common thread was that it would be between himself and Shayera. He hadn't considered that anybody else would be there. He didn't consider that she would choose to follow _Batman's_ commands along with it.

He felt betrayed.

Again.

But the place was still too public for a confrontation. To blatantly display hostilities within the ranks of the Justice Lords wouldn't do anybody any good, he recognized. So, he silently launched up into the autumn sky and disappeared into the darkening gray and silver clouds.

'_The Batcave…'_he thought as he flew. _'So be it.'_

* * *

The first two minutes in the cockpit of the Batmobile were unbearably silent. The mysterious Samaritan… John's unexpected return… either conflict would be enough to preoccupy an investigative mind. Either subject could easily be considered the most important development in the past month. Either subject could provide incredibly dire consequences or incredibly remarkable results.

But for Shayera, there was only one thing on which she could focus: John was back… and he didn't look happy.

She hadn't even grown accustomed to her own situation without him yet. Now that he was back, how much more complicated was her world about to become?

Not that she hadn't spent ample time contemplating it over the weeks, quite the contrary. But now, being faced unexpectedly with the actual situation… the timing… the way he made his presence known… it took her by surprise. The few emotions and ideas she thought she had neatly arranged were falling into shambles again.

She pondered and dwelled and worried and obsessed as they drove on. There were so many dimensions to his return: did he still love her? Did she still love him? Was there anything left between them to salvage? Would he be as belligerent as Clark or would he be calm and listen and discuss things rationally? Would there be a fight? And even if he did agree with what she and Batman were trying to accomplish now, would he be a party to it? Would it go against his integrity and principles to perpetuate a fraud on a planetary scale, even if it is only temporary?

"Well done," Batman's cold voice interrupted her thoughts.

"_WHAT?"_

"I said 'well done'. In Winters' office, you held your own and fought like you always have. Nobody in that building will have any suspicion whatsoever that you're not functioning at one hundred percent. That's important. With all that's been going on, we need episodes like this to keep the gossip at bay."

She heard what he said, but she wasn't listening… at first. Her mind was too wrapped up with Green Lantern to even consider anything else. But as he finished, her sharp mind was able to absorb what he was saying – not only that but to actually tie it in with John's return.

"The only thing," he concluded, "that anybody could possibly question is why you rode with me. But that was unavoidable."

"John didn't question that, either."

"No, he didn't," he agreed as if he were coaxing her to analyze that fact further.

The silence intruded again. She tried to concentrate on a single train of thought, but found it difficult to stay focused. Eventually, for reasons she couldn't conceive, guilt started to wash over her.

"I should have gone with him," she said out-loud for no good reason.

"That wouldn't have been a good idea."

"Why not?" she demanded, somewhat offended that he seemed intent on keeping her and John apart.

"Because you can't fly," he said as if it should have been evident. "He doesn't know that. The Suppression Squad and other witnesses don't know that. If he had to carry you away, that would have raised too many questions. No, leaving with me was a little unorthodox, but it was the lesser of two evils."

She shook her head. He was right. She had been so wrapped up in the flood of feelings that John's green eyes unleashed into her that she wasn't even thinking about logistics of public perceptions. Batman's comments slapped her in the face with a little bit of cold reality. Her mind raced through the truth of his observation, then eventually melted into a different wave of guilt over missing the importance of maintaining the Justice Lords' image in an important situation.

She sighed and sank her head back against the seat.

* * *

The Batmobile's engines whined down and the cockpit slid open smoothly. Shayera had to climb out and hoist her mace with some considerable effort. She turned and made her way towards Batman, expecting him to take it from her and return it to wherever he had been keeping it for the past several weeks.

"What?" he asked when she stopped right in front of him, raising the heavy weapon up a few more inches with some difficulty.

"Here."

"Here, what?" he asked with some annoyance as he brushed passed her and headed towards the armory.

"Aren't you going to take this back?"

"It's not _my_ mace, it's yours. Do whatever you want with it."

"Bruce! Don't be stupid," she tried, close on his heels. "I can't carry it and you know it."

"Take it back up to the Watchtower."

She stopped dead in her tracks. Once again, he was right. As far as the Watchtower staff was concerned, the Justice Lords were back and running the planet like always. She had free reign to come and go as she pleased. If that meant teleporting up to the Watchtower, then so be it.

But the prospect frightened her. Her feeling of security was being challenged. It was the same sinking feeling she had when he let her out of her cell for the first time not so long ago. She knew that it was happening, that she wasn't supposed to be cooped up, but she couldn't help but feel like she was sacrificing a warm, comfortable, secure home for a cold and unknown world. To leave the Batcave and the Manor on an open basis was just as intimidating in many ways.

He disappeared through the door, leaving her in the damp, dim cave to ponder.

Was she ready for that freedom again?

She didn't realize how long she stood there, contemplating it all until he came back out, dressed in casual civilian attire. Upon noticing that she was still standing numbly, the weight of her real mace causing her shoulders to droop, he stopped and offered her a smaller step.

"OK, just put it in the armory. There's an empty rack on the wall right as you walk in. Then, go get changed. We have some…"

The green energy took them both by surprise. It clamped around his neck and carried him away to hang precariously over a rather large chasm in the cave floor. He dangled there, gasping for breath, his hands clawing uselessly at the glowing shackle.

Shayera's wide eyes followed the long green column back to John's right fist. His floating form virtually radiated anger and aggression. She saw his tightened jaw and recognized it for what it was worth. This wasn't good.

"John, put him down!"

"You stay back!" Green Lantern barked at her, pointing a stern finger. "If you try anything, he'll drop!"

Her face twisted with true confusion.

"Try anything? What would I try? For God's sake, John! Put him down!"

"Oh, I'll put him down, alright. I'll put him in the deepest, darkest pit I can find and when I'm done with that, then you and I will have some things to talk about!"

He landed on the cold floor and started marching towards the catwalk that led to the door of the training arena. He kept his right fist firmly in front of him and his dangling captive led the way. With a quick thrust of effort, he used Bruce's body as a battering ram to open the door to the arena and they both disappeared inside. Shayera followed close on his heels, not knowing what to say or do.

He noticed that the configuration of the cells had changed since Katma had taken him away. Instead of all five cells facing outward, he noticed one cell was on its own at the far end of the arena facing towards the darkness, while the other four had been moved neatly to the side of the cavern, sitting in single file, all facing away from the cave walls. One of them had the Martian Manhunter kneeling in the center and the other three were empty and wide open.

He tossed Bruce's weakening body into one cell and bending his ring's energy, he grunted with some effort as he dragged another cell around to close in, facing the first; the two forming one long, sealed containment.

"That should hold him for a while," he muttered.

"You don't have to do this," Shayera declared, showing some resolve and appearing to be somewhat calmer than she was before.

"You're lucky I don't do the same to you!" he said fiercely. "How long have you been working with him?"

"John, it's not like that. Things have changed since you left."

"Changed, huh? J'onn is still in his cage, Shayera. And who's in the other one at the end? Diana? Clark?"

She took a deep breath, her eyes blinking and searching for the right way to begin explaining.

"It's Kal El, John," she said quickly, "but he's only in there because-"

"Because he would have had the best chance at breaking that traitor's neck!"

"No, John… Listen!"

"And where's Diana? Did he kill her?"

"No, John, damn it! Will you just calm down and listen to me? Diana's on her way here, she's fine! They're ALL fine! A lot has happened and you don't understand what he's trying to do."

"You're right, Shayera. I _DON'T_ understand. I don't understand why he betrayed us all and locked us up like criminals. I don't understand why he let me go… or you, or Diana. And I sure as hell don't understand why you're working _with_ him now instead of freeing our colleagues and securing our situation!"

"Lantern?" a distant voice called from the far cell.

John took a quick glance at the far end of the cavern, then eyed Shayera skeptically for a second. He launched into the air and flew down into the darkness in front of the Plexiglas shield.

"It _is_ you!" Lord Superman declared, his hands pressed against the barrier. "Thank Rao! Can you get me out of here?"

"Stand back."

Bracing his right arm within the grasp of his left fist, John concentrated a thin, blazing green beam out of his ring, slicing a new door for the cell. Before he got more than a few inches, Shayera came frantically around the corner.

"John, no! He's not ready!"

"Don't listen to her, John. She's working with _him_ now!"

"I know she is!" John answered, still slicing through the Plexiglas.

"Yes, I'm working with him, now," she explained strongly. "So is Diana. And for that matter, so is J'onn. He's the only one," she continued, pointing at Clark, "that we're concerned about right now, can't you see?"

The slicing stopped.

John's green eyes jumped from Clark to Shayera and back.

"Where is Diana, again?" he asked.

"I have no idea," Clark said with some disgust. "And frankly, I don't care. Just get me the hell out of here!"

John turned to Shayera.

"She's on her way back. Bruce released her from her cell and she's been out on her own for several weeks now. She called the other day and she's on her way back. She should be here within a day or two."

"Where's she been?"

"I… I really don't know."

"And how do you know she's on her way back?"

She paused before answering, realizing how thin her answer would be.

"Bruce told me," she sighed.

"So, she could be _dead_ for all you know," Clark accused.

"She's not dead!" Shayera snapped.

"You don't know that," Clark snapped back. "You just said so yourself!"

"Hold on," Lantern insisted. Turning to Shayera; "You said J'onn's working with you, too. Let's go talk to him."

He flew away from the cell despite Clark's protests and threats. Shayera followed him until he stopped in front of the Martian's cell. He waited for his presence to be noticed, but it didn't look like J'onn cared one way or the other.

"He… he can't see you, John. He's blind."

"What? You said that everyone was _'fine'_!"

"It's a complication due to the side effects of the Power Disrupter that was used on us."

"You said he was working with you."

"He is… in a way. Bruce and I have been trying to communicate with him, to figure out what went wrong and help him heal. The only way to talk to him is through a computer voice modulator."

John eyed her quizzically, skeptically. Solemnly, she nodded and led the way back out and to the massive computer consoles. He stood by tensely as she activated the communications protocols and switched on the microphone. The large monitor showed the Martian's cell.

"J'onn? Can you hear me?"

The way she spoke was rather surprising. She used slow, enunciated words as if she were talking to a person that was hard of hearing. It sounded awkward… clunky.

When J'onn responded, Lantern understood why. His words were just as strange.

"Her-lo, Shay-eer-ah. How did yur mish-shun go?"

That one sentence painted the situation in a whole new way for John Stewart.

Mission? That word simply wasn't used any more. Even when the Watchtower staff was explaining Hawkgirl and Batman's activities, they used "Assignment".

The fact that J'onn responded politely, in a friendly way… clearly there was no animosity between these two. Not only that, but he knew _about_ the mission. Clearly they were keeping him informed in certain matters.

John had to question his conviction. Had he misjudged her after all? Had he misjudged the situation? And if so, had he misjudged Batman?

"The mission went well, J'onn. It's a long story, but I'll be happy to tell you all about it later. Right now, I just wanted to see if you're all right – to see if you needed anything. And…"

She turned to look at John over her shoulder before continuing.

"And to let you know that Lantern is back from Oa."

On the monitor, the Martian sat up, paying more attention to what he heard.

"Heesh back? Does he haff his ring back?"

"Ask him yourself."

"Lan-turn?"

With a touch of uncertainty, John stepped past Shayera and leaned in towards the microphone.

"I'm here, J'onn. I'm back and I have my ring. I'm trying to get everything back to normal."

"I yam glad yur back," J'onn said carefully, as if he intended several levels of meaning with his words.

"I'm glad to be back, too, J'onn. But… uh… Shayera and I have some things to discuss. We'll be back to talk to you later, OK?"

"OK"

After Shayera typed a few commands the monitor went dark and she switched off the microphone. She turned to eye John with a touch of confidence.

"See?"

The pause was deep as John pondered all he had witnessed.

"OK," he began. "I can see that J'onn is physically impaired. I can see that Diana's not here and you can't tell me where she is. I can see that Batman is still working with the Watchtower staff and that you're helping him – although why you're talking about _missions_ isn't very clear. And I can tell that Clark still doesn't trust any of it."

He turned and leaned back against the computer console, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his emerald eyes focused and his face hardened as he thought.

"When you sum it all up like that," she said, "then it sounds so chaotic, but really, John… there's a lot going on that you haven't seen."

"Apparently," he spat back with ample venom in his voice.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Just what it sounds like," he answered, not looking at her. "Everything that was once established and understood is now twisted and confused."

"It might _seem_ that way, but if you'll just let me explain-"

"Explain what, Shayera? Explain how two of our colleagues are still incarcerated – one blinded? Diana's whereabouts are a complete mystery and you and Batman seem to be _thick as thieves_ running the whole show like there's nothing wrong!"

He felt a flash of embarrassment, letting his emotions seep out with his accusations – especially about Hawkgirl and Batman working together. But it was too late. She undoubtedly caught it – in his words and his expressions… probably even his body language. And she called him on it.

"You think that he and I… Oh, you've got to be kidding me! We're colleagues, John. That's it. Yes, we've been working together more closely now than we were before, but it's out of necessity until this whole thing can get resolved!"

"And I'm supposed to _believe _that?"

She sighed. After a confidence-building swallow, she set her jaw and answered.

"I don't know what you think you're supposed to believe, John. But I'm asking you to trust me."

They locked their green eyes on to each other for an intimate moment.

"I'm asking you to trust me and to give me a little bit of time to explain… and maybe the benefit of the doubt. When everything's been said, then… you can do whatever you think is right."

His boiling blood cooled a little more. Even with all the emotion infused in her voice, her words were solid and sound. He _had_ been too emotional to be logical. He had allowed his judgment to be tainted by his feelings – something that he used to know was inherently unjust.

When did that happen? When did he become the kind of person that went off half-cocked? When did it become so natural for him to take action that he _wanted_ rather than take action that he knew to be _right_?

He didn't know. All he knew was that he didn't want to be like that anymore. It felt _wrong_ to be like that. He had been internally fighting his own emotional defenses, trying to overcome the possibility that he had been wrong… that his choices and his actions had been wrong. He used to be able to recognize that about himself. He used to have the confidence and humility and integrity to admit his mistakes – that and the added benefit of his inherent desire to make amends.

Somehow, he had dropped those admirable traits and adopted the selfish, childish, _flawed_ approach that he was _never_ wrong and anybody that questioned him was destined to earn his wrath.

But not anymore.

In this moment, alone with Shayera… with her voice and the expressions on her sweet face showing how safe and comfortable he could be, even with his flaws… he found the courage to admit that he wasn't infallible. He found the maturity to recognize that he wasn't perfect – nor did he need to be. In fact, he had finally remembered that the only way to improve was to recognize his own shortcomings and correct them.

That had been his way of life once. It had been his strongest characteristic. It was something that he had once believed was what made the ring choose him.

'_Trust her'_ he thought. _'She didn't used to have to ask me to do that…'_

Another old feeling started to resurface for John Stewart. It felt like turning on a light in a room that had been dark for too long. It felt comfortable… warm.

His mind and his heart finally felt like they were in sync. He panned his eyes up to meet hers.

He nodded.

'_I trust you.'_

"But… there's something else I want to tell you first," she said softly… almost apologetically, as if the very act of talking frightened her.

He tried to read her expressions, but he couldn't put a name on what he saw. She looked anxious and nervous… almost confused for a second. Finally, she seemed to steel herself, and she took a deep breath.

"John…I still love you." she finally said. "I'm still… _in love_ with you."

His face fell with awe as the power of those words hit him full force.

Shayera waited.

She stood tall, head held high, as if she had confessed to committing a crime and was awaiting punishment.

Looking into her eyes, he found yet another something he hadn't seen in a long, long time. She was vulnerable. She had opened herself up to him and gave him all the power to send her crashing into a harsh reality if he chose to. And it dawned on him; Lord Hawkgirl would _never_ do that—Shayera would.

Something _was_ different now… for him, for her… it _was_ different.

The steel around his heart melted a little more. The tenseness of the situation continued to fade. What he had been thinking and feeling as he blazed through space was something foreign – something inapplicable to what he was living through now. She wasn't his enemy. She wasn't even his Justice Lord colleague. She was simply Shayera. And she loved him… _still_ loved him, as if something had happened that could possibly change that.

She continued to wait as he sighed.

But he couldn't answer her. Not in the way that he wanted to. He couldn't find his voice… so he answered with actions.

With a few tender steps, he closed the distance between him and wrapped his powerful arms around her. She rested her head against his massive chest and he breathed in her scent through her hair. It was sweet and fresh, but because of her fight at the clinic, she was also wild and raw.

Her body – the way it felt, the way it _fit_ against his… her warmth… all of it. It felt like home. His embrace tightened and hers did in return. His eyes closed.

They stayed like that for countless moments—it could have been brief, it could have been hours—neither of them could tell, nor did they care. The worries of the world were gone, if only for now.

* * *

Still Alpha World…

Bruce coughed his strength back after Lantern dropped him in the deserted cell. He had just gotten to his hands and knees by the time the other cell was sandwiched against the opening. When the low concussive thrum of the two units being pushed together finished its echo, he finally had enough of his wits back to curse himself out.

He had made a mistake.

It wasn't a mistake about Lantern… no. He expected John would come back and when he did, he knew that some kind of mild confrontation at least would ensue. So it wasn't a surprise that it went down the way it did. What _was_ a surprise was the way Lantern imprisoned him.

Had John simply shut the Plexiglas doors, Bruce wouldn't have had any problems. He had secret override commands at his disposal to open them from inside – for just such occasions. Instead, Bruce was stuck. The two cells were far too heavy to be moved without some kind of help. The only way for Bruce to get out now was to wait for John to let him out.

Since John hastily threw the cell faces together there was a crack of light seeping in from the point of their misalignment. Bruce could still hear some of the muffled conversations going on out in his Batcave. After a few moments, it was clear that John and Shayera weren't in the training arena any more.

He sat in the dark, contemplating his situation. He reassessed his original plans for reforming the Justice Lords into a New Justice League. He had to make deliberate attempts to NOT let his mind wander to his own world and what could be happening there… that was something he couldn't dwell on right now.

So, instead, he concentrated on taking stock of his plans and how everything was going thus far.

Shayera was making progress, but for every two steps forward, there seemed to be at least one step back. He never had intended to build a close friendship with her because of all the dangers involved, but unfortunately, they _had_ become fairly good friends. He was going to have to keep his guard up more than he had been, he considered. If she discovered that he really wasn't this world's Batman, well… he didn't know how she'd react.

That and he didn't like her lack of aggression and enthusiasm. It was as if she had found comfort in her meeker approach to life. Her drive to commit was lacking. Her desire to excel seemed muted and he couldn't figure out why. Perhaps with Lantern's return, she could rediscover some of her old fire.

As far as Lantern himself was concerned, Bruce calculated that cool logic and diplomatic tactics would be the best approach. From their last conversations, he recalled that John didn't show much remorse for the Justice Lord's doctrines. If anything, he seemed almost obsessive with wanting to apply military uniformity to the populace in utterly totalitarian terms. Bruce hadn't made the connection at first, but over the weeks of analyzing things, he figured that military standards would always be John's safety net… whenever something became too confusing, follow the rules.

His Flash's murder was the lynch pin for John's abandonment of reason. He had allowed himself to think of that Wally as a little brother that needed protecting rather than a grown man and colleague capable of living life and tackling dangers on his own. That's why Wally's death had hit John so hard… harder than when he had lost other colleagues and brothers in arms. John _needed_ to look after Wally. To allow him to die was his own cataclysmic failure. Thus, pain and confusion forced John to fall back into his safety net. The whole world was painful to him after that… he needed the whole world dragged into his safety net, too. John had to make the whole world follow those concrete rules.

Bruce would have to make John recognize that machine-like uniformity and adherence to hard-set rules, while perfectly valid for many people and situations, it was NOT the best approach to an entire planet of human beings. To expect him to fully understand that, he was going to first have to understand that Wally's murder was not _his_ failing.

John had to learn to forgive himself. Perhaps reconnecting with Shayera could help.

Bruce was still at a loss for J'onn. The countless files and reports that he had scanned all told him that, eventually, J'onn's Martian physiology would be able to heal itself. By his calculation, Bruce had expected the first sign of his recovery would be for some of his more simple shape-shifting abilities to return. That would be evident with J'onn's speech. He shouldn't have trouble making the sounds required to speak fluent English… his mouth, tongue, throat… they all would adapt.

However, no such improvements had been made.

His research also concluded through J'onn's own journal entries, in such a dire physical state J'onn's recovery would be aided by exposure to a more Martian environment. He had recreated all the atmospheric conditions he could. He had produced a Martian diet that was as close as one could get on Earth. He kept the temperatures ridiculously cold and even though the Martian was blind, he still kept the lights in the cell rotating on and off over a cycle every 24 hours, 37 minutes and 22.663 seconds – the length of one Martian day. With the exceptions of atmospheric pressure and gravitational pull, the inside of J'onn's cell was just like living on Mars.

So, why hadn't he shown any signs of recovering? Bruce didn't know.

He hadn't had many conversations with J'onn about the Justice Lord doctrines. He had to believe that J'onn, with so much time to meditate, think and analyze, would most likely come up with many things on his own. What his conclusions would be were still somewhat of a mystery.

In short, J'onn J'onnz's recovery; while on the forefront of Bruce's agenda, was still somewhat stagnant. There was no progress made, either physically or spiritually, that could be noted. Until some signs could be established, J'onn was still a work in progress.

Diana was even more of a mystery. But as he had resolved when he decided that his best course of action with her would be to let her run free until she discovered her own truth, he knew that he would have to wait for her to return and tell him what that truth would be. Until then, he would have to continue to force himself to not think about her.

As for Clark, well…

The time ticked away as Bruce languished. He was in civilian attire, so he had none of his utility belt tools at his disposal. Only the thin sliver of space between the two walls interrupted the darkness of the cells – and that only turned black shadows into gray shadows. He forced himself to not get frustrated about his predicament, no matter how much time was wasted with him unable to continue his work. But he was still Batman. Even in his preoccupied state, his senses were still alert and he caught the telltale signs of a person… flying… somebody landing on the concrete floor right outside his prison.

The sandy grumbling of the two cells being forced apart shattered the silence. The intrusion of more light caused him to squint at the opening. The sliver of space spread to expose a familiar figure. When the noise finally ceased, he could focus on her entire silhouette. His eyes scanned up her tall frame, from shape of her boots and her long legs, past her sculpted hips and waste and stopped at her head… complete with its cascades of long, dark hair.

* * *

**AN: For the record... Deloris Winters is NOT my OC. While researching the Ultra Humanite for "The Powers That Be", I found some info about her and was intrigued at what I read. To paraphrase, she was an actress, her agent betrayed her to The Ultra Humanite, he did possess her body for a time - which drove her insane, she did acquire cryogenic powers by murdering Ice Maiden and undergoing a full-skin transplant, she was obsessed with physical beauty and had countless cosmetic surgeries. I tried to tap into all of that in "Powers" and this story. If you read "Powers", you may recall that I spent considerable time delving into what it was like for UH to possess her body and how crazy it made her. At that time, I wasn't sure if I was going to use her as another bad guy or not in that story, so I wanted to make sure I included something that would explain why she became what she became. As for her agent and friend, Rhonda... well let's just say that, with the exception of fitting into the role of agent and betrayer, she's pretty much a fictional OC from my own little head.**

**As I mentioned above, I'll be going back to Beta world in coming chapters. I don't spend a whole lot of time there for a couple of reasons; 1. Most of this story is about the Justice Lords and their redemption, so it makes sense that most of the story takes place in their world, and 2. I'm trying to keep the happenings in Beta world canon with the cartoon series. I don't think we need to re-hash what's already been established. So, I try to fill in the 'missing scenes' and the like.**

**Finally, don't worry about BMWW. If you've read any of my other stuff, you probably know that I totally dig on that ship. So, while the last couple chapters have been empty of any BMWW juiciness, believe me when I say that I plan on supplying some good stuff pretty soon.**


	15. Chapter 15: Declaration

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Justice League or the characters within. No profit is gained from this fiction… that being said, if anybody reading this really likes it and just happens to work in a capacity that would allow me to contribute to a JUSTICE LEAGUE MOVIE… I'm open to offers. (It could happen!)

THANKS to Litra and Hepburn for their feedback and beta help on this chapter. However, I will say that even after their help, I did a foolish thing by changing a lot of stuff that didn't sit well with me. The end result is the following chapter, which I'll say is semi-beta'd. So, if you find any mistakes or whatever, it's totally my fault and mine alone. I just wanted to get out a chapter… FINALLY!

SPOILDER ALERT: This chapter contains references and my interpretations of scenes (and in-betweens) of Secret Society, Parts 1 and 2. I hope you've seen those episodes. Personally, I can't 'unsee' them, so even though I tried to write this such that you don't NEED to know those episodes to appreciate this chapter – I may not have succeeded. So, I'll apologize in advance if anybody reading this hasn't seen those and gets a little lost.

* * *

ETERNAL: CHAPTER 15 - Declaration

BETA WORLD – Ex-Justice Lord Batman and the Justice League on top of a building…

"Time," Ex-Lord Batman said to the Justice League.

That's what he said they had to lose if they practiced together as a team. The others were all looking at the benefits of the plan—and there were many. The question Shayera posed to everyone asked what they had to lose. It was intended to be a rhetorical question as nobody seemed to believe that there could be a down side. But **he **was Batman. He always finds a down side. That's just the way it has to be.

Green Lantern's idea was actually a good one, and had things been normal in this world, it would have made more sense to Batman Alpha, but since things weren't exactly normal, there were dangers. These weren't **his** colleagues—they were the colleagues of that **other** Batman. Maybe this Flash knows his charade and has been surprisingly good at keeping his mouth shut, but there was a chance that something could slip. Maybe this Diana knew as well and was proving undeniably that she could be a trusted confidant, but there was still that small possibility that the wrong thing could be said… or shown. He was fairly certain that the others didn't know that he wasn't the Batman of this world, but with six pairs of eyes to see his every move, the dangers of another one of them realizing the secret were exponentially elevated.

Like him, the Batman of this world also had a reputation of not exactly being a team player, and he'd been hanging his hat on that fact for virtually every opportunity to 'escape'. When there was action, it wasn't hard to function without question, but when things were slow or a little more social… he needed to leave. So his charade had been uneventful; he functioned within their folds when the times were heavy and he disappeared when they weren't.

But this time, he'd been outvoted… as if that mattered. The Justice League would engage in team-building exercises. The goal was to make their synergy and cohesion stronger. He could have pulled a few bombshells out of his arsenal and declared that he didn't need to learn how to be part of 'their team' since he was officially a part-time member… but that kind of standoffishness could also be dangerous. Sure, it may simply deter their attentions, but then again, it may actually draw them as well. It was a tough choice, but he decided to **allow** them to outvote him.

After a few moments, he finally convinced himself that this opportunity was a sort of blessing in disguise. They'd all be working together, but there wasn't a 'real' battle in progress. Provided he could be as 'Batman-ish' as possible and avoid any suspicions, he now had the chance to observe just how closely these other heroes really worked together. He could keep his keen eye out for signs of any power-grabbing or posturing. He could note any indication that these incredible and powerful people were allowing all that power to go to their heads. In short, he could make sure they weren't making the same mistakes his team had made.

While he was an observer, he was able to mentally note these things along with the obligatory characteristics of their teamwork and fighting ability. Thankfully, even though there was surely some tension and maybe even a little rivalry, the small indications of any trends towards Justice Lord-ism were minimal at best. He found solace in that, at least.

Eventually, by some stroke of fate, he had been grouped with Flash and Diana – the only two that knew who he really was - in an ambush simulation exercise in some ghost town in the middle of some desert. The assailants were laughably easy to repel. Oh, it was a noble effort on Lantern's part to set up traps and to use the robotic drones, but there was nothing presented that he couldn't have handled alone while half dead in the dark of a Gotham alley.

Wonder Woman had her moments. Flash did well. But things were just too drawn out for his taste. He had counted on this exercise ending quickly. He was being watched and he knew it. The others were scrutinizing his every move. After a relatively simple maneuver that took out a few drones, he stole a glance at his 'judges', only to find Lantern's face shining with a look of approval, Clark's face twisted with an impressed smile and J'onn's eyes softly glowing orange. That's when he knew that he better tone it down. He didn't need that much attention.

In fact, he didn't need ANY more attention. He had what he needed, it was now time to end this… in **his** way, on **his** terms.

With a single sweep of his arms, a barrage of projectiles took out the last remaining drones just before his teammates did.

"Hey! That was my bad guy!" Flash complained.

It was an opportunity for him to remind these people that he was still the Batman… capable of everything and more that they could imagine a 'normal' human could do… capable, even, of outdoing each and all of them.

"Like I said, call me when it's important… and not before," he dropped on them as he strutted away towards his waiting jet.

* * *

LATER – in a chemical facility.

The Justice League had failed. Their enemies had defeated them and escaped. The frustration and aggravation each Leaguer felt was all too obvious. Each set of eyes loomed with irritation and every member looked at every other member with an expression of accusation.

"I survived the loss of one family," J'onn declared. "I'll survive the loss of this one, too."

Ex-Lord Batman stood in the little circle of the disintegrating group, pondering like the others if that meant what it first sounded like it meant.

'_Yes,'_ he quickly deduced. _'J'onn is laying down the line.'_

Any one of them could have spoken up. Any one of them could have objected to the finality of J'onn's statement. Even after Superman's arrogant little rant about handling entire armies on his own, there was still a sliver of hope that somebody… **anybody** would find it within themselves to cut through the heightened tension and the bitterness and try to remind the group that their difficulties, in the long run, weren't as dire as the may appear at the moment. Somebody could have spoken up and saved the Justice League from collapse.

But as J'onn turned and walked away, nobody said a word.

Batman Alpha had a sudden moment of foresight. If there's no Justice League, then there's nobody to devolve into the Justice **Lords.**

It was that simple.

So, he too, turned and walked away. With each step he took… each passing second where the others remained silent… he knew that this was probably for the best. They wouldn't be a team, but they'd at least stay **good. **The world lost the League, but they still had seven heroes, **serving** and **protecting** instead of **reigning**. They would **not** become tyrants… not as a group, at least.

If he'd allowed himself to admit it, he could have said that it was painful, but he also would have made the heartless comparison to ripping off a bandage; just do it quickly. It'll hurt for a second, then it will be over.

Yes, it probably was for the best.

* * *

STILL BETA WORLD – Wayne Manor

"I must say, sir, that **is** upsetting," Alfred said, masking the massive disappointment that Bruce Wayne Alpha could see he has hiding. "People had such high regard and esteem for the Justice League. They were looking up to you and **'pinning their hopes'** on you, as they say. To many, you were the embodiment of all that can be good with the world."

"All good things must come to an end, Alfred."

"True."

…

…

"The League was in danger," Bruce said with conviction.

"Yes, you have said that. Twice, I believe."

Alfred had spoken politely enough, and the words were fairly innocuous, but Bruce heard their underlying tone like a foghorn. His claim about the League being in danger wasn't that strong of a fact, no matter how much he wanted it to be. Bruce was trying to convince **himself** it was true more than anything and Alfred sagely pointed that out to him.

Even **this** Alfred knew him better than he knew himself.

Was this Justice League truly in danger? It had been slightly more than a day since the seven heroes walked away from each other and with that amount of time's worth of hind-sight, the reasons they had split seemed far too paltry now.

Why did he feel like a teenager regretting an immature outburst of rage?

He'd also have to sell the whole concept to his counterpart… which seemed like an easy sell just yesterday when the action was still fresh. Now, however, he wasn't so sure. In retrospect, the logic wasn't as solid any more. Try as he might, he couldn't get his mind to clamp on to the reasons as securely as he could then. Try as he might, he just couldn't figure out why. So, naturally, he analyzed it. He recreated the scenario in his mind again, and again… and again, each time, trying to infuse his understanding of these other heroes.

For his own part, this Batman's reputation was primed to handle cold, cynical actions and words, so despite his tinge of guilt, his own actions weren't too out of character. However, he couldn't exactly find a way to explain the same kinds of actions and words from the others.

Like his own colleague, this J'onn was never prone to be rash like he seemed to be yesterday.

There were no notes that this Clark ever boasted like that, nor did he blame others so harshly for honest mistakes.

Why didn't Flash speak up? Where was his eternal sense of humor and optimism? His ever-present exuberance for the League… his constant admiration for the others… had all that been destroyed, too?

Returning to his lair, he reviewed the facts on his massive computers.

There was nothing, really, that could be pin-pointed, but for whatever reason, Bruce had the sneaking suspicion that something else was at play. Something else had magnified the negative emotions in everyone, muting the common sense and better judgment. He needed to know what.

The cast of their opponents was an assemblage of misfit villains and loners; Killer Frost, Shade, Giganta, Parasite, Sinestro. What was the key to their alliance? What could possibly pull these six together and make them cooperate as a team? What made them attack Morgan Edge's island compound? What made them hunt down Clayface after all this time? They were clearly prepared for him at the warehouse…. what was their goal in setting up that ambush for him?

Far too many questions were plaguing him. The answers were eluding his deduction. He couldn't find the "what" for any case.

'_No. Not 'what'… 'WHO'?"_

There was somebody else… there **had** to be. That only made more sense; seven against seven. It wasn't an ambush for him, it was an ambush for the whole League! This team was assembled to, among other things, combat the Justice League head-on. There had to be a mastermind pulling the other puppets' strings. Somebody brilliant and powerful. Hidden… Invisible…

Cloaked.

"Grodd!" he said out loud, heard only by the bats hanging in the stalactites overhead.

In moments he was in the Batwing and flying. The chemical plant where they had their battle was still cordoned off, guarded by a token pair of police officers. It wouldn't be hard to enter unseen and look for a few more clues.

Flash, however, called him. He needed help.

'_Flash…'_

Even with the League disbanded, the thought of anything happening to Flash was unacceptable.

Before he knew it, he found himself in a trap, cornered by no less than seven super-villains, sure enough, with Grodd leading the way… and he had left his cave too quickly. He was unprepared. His utility belt was woefully under stocked. His surroundings were unfamiliar. He wasn't ready for this kind of fight.

He didn't waste any energy cursing himself out for his mistake. He just used that energy in the fight instead. He was ferocious and terrifying. His power and drive were fueled by the sparks of fear he caught in their eyes. He made them pay. He almost made them regret trying to tangle with him… almost.

Yes, he was Batman, and he made sure they knew what fear was… but he still lost.

His mind drifted before he came to—he had no idea how long he'd been out. He had heard distant conversations and he wasn't sure who was talking or even if it was real voices he was hearing. In any event, he knew he wasn't alone.

No, there were others near-by. His dizziness was still thick and clouding his brain. Was he really looking around or was he hallucinating? The images he made out were unsettling at best.

It was a cave, but not his cave.

He was trapped… immobile.

'_Did somebody talk about movies?'_

The voices were muffled… He was in a containment of some sort.

Whatever kind of contraption was holding him, he could barely move. The simple act of breathing took considerable effort. Speaking was impossible. He couldn't reach J'onn mentally. His eye lenses were passive—not scrolling data and stats, telling him that all of his technology was useless. His peripheral vision was just acute enough to see that he wasn't alone. It was obvious that there were other containments on either side of him, and unless he was wrong, the size and colors he could just make out told him that Hawkgirl was probably on his left and Superman was on his right… but it was too difficult to actually turn his head and make sure… and it really didn't matter any way.

His whole body throbbed with pain. His neck was stiff. Judging by the sharp stabs he felt as he breathed, he probably had a cracked rib or two. He tried to think… tried to **plan**… but coherence eluded him. Despite all of this, however, he was still able to keep his composure and at least **look** substantial. Years of training saw to that.

Then a battle erupted in front of him.

Green Lantern was out there, fighting to free them. It was a valiant effort, but he, too, fell victim and was locked up like the others.

There was Grodd. He had not only succeeded in collecting these reclusive individuals into some kind of team, he had led that team to victory by capturing each and every member of the Justice League. They were truly potent.

Grodd had succeeded because his people worked as a unit—as a **team**, whereas the League wasn't a League anymore but just a group of individuals. They had been defeated because of it. Alfred had been right. Even if the League disbanded for good, their legend would endure. None of them had the luxury of going solo any more, they were to inexorably tied to each other. They would all be members of the Justice League, always—to the world, to the people they fought, everybody—it didn't matter if they tried to disband. The mere fact that Grodd and his lackeys had planned to deal with the League as a whole only cemented that fact.

Despite his pain and suffering, Batman Alpha realized that he had been short-sighted to not see this. It would have been too easy to let the League disband simply to avoid the trappings of the Justice Lords. That was a temporary stop-gap measure and the Justice League faced an enduring danger. No, dissolving the League wasn't the answer, he now knew. Like any relationship of choice, when times get tough and emotions cloud the facts, work was required to overcome. This was no different. They'd **all **have to work to ensure the existence of the League – and this League needed to exist.

But they were trapped in Grodd's cave, each and every one of them. And he was loath to admit it, but he was utterly powerless to stop the inevitable fate planned for them… whatever that may be.

'_If they simply wanted us dead, they would have killed us by now.'_

They were moved en masse into some kind of huge vehicle, packed into a dark compartment like so much cargo. Then the vehicle was moving—flying, he thought. It was impossible to tell where they were going and his mind hadn't recovered enough to even tell how long they were in transit. It was also impossible to tell if a chance for action would present itself, but if one did, he knew he had to be ready. It was only natural for him to want to be. So he focused all his efforts to prepare for battle.

'_Find peace.'_

He allowed his eyelids to drift down to their most natural state… almost shut, but not quite. He mustered the strength to swallow, then he let his body relax. His breathing slowed even more. The agony… it didn't recede, but he pushed it to the backdrop, melting it into the darkness around him. He sank into his own mind—a black world of discipline dominating painful chaos.

'_Find order.'_

If fight awaited him, it would call upon all his skill and precision—not just to defeat his opponents, but to simply overcome his own body's depleted and broken state. He couldn't show his weakness, nor his struggles. He couldn't allow anyone to know his waning condition. No, he'd hide it. He'd mask his pain. He'd be Batman. He'd be inhuman.

The motion stopped. He heard the muffled echoes of a voice from outside. Judging by the vocal inflections, it was probably Grodd pontificating over some kind of loudspeaker system. Typical.

Then they were moving again. As a complete set, their containment capsules were lifted up and out of the vehicle. They were bathed in stark floodlights… on display.

Through squinting eyes, he took in what he could. They were in the middle of Gotham Stadium in front of 75,000 spectators.

It was going to be a public execution.

The structures of his mind dominated the turmoil and anguish, harnessing it. Focusing it.

'_Find purpose.'_

Grodd gave the command to Clayface to do the honors. The gooey hand reached for the lever that would undoubtedly trigger some utterly horrific mechanism, killing each member of the Justice League in front of a stunned audience and millions of television viewers. The proverbial axe was going to fall.

That last shred of natural human weakness within him… that part that refused to die or go away despite the sadistic trainings he drove himself through… it screamed out at the unjustified inevitability that he'd die without having the chance to go down swinging. The eternal Batman within him had a split second to choke that self-pity away before…

They were free!

It wasn't Clayface that Grodd was commanding; it was J'onn in disguise!

The containments broke down around the Justice League and Batman Alpha found his arms and legs were his own again.

The seven heroes squared off in the middle of the stadium against their opponents. Fourteen faces stared each other down, every expression as hard as stone. Fourteen scowls. Fourteen pairs of eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. Fourteen hands clenched into fists.

The thousands of spectators couldn't move. Their collective breath was stuck in their chests, locked there by the tension and anticipation of the inevitable cataclysm brewing before them. Millions of chaotic heartbeats thundered silently throughout the stadium and around the world in the precious few seconds that crawled along.

Grodd had managed to organize the odd jumble of misfits into a slick machine bent on murder and destruction. The Justice League had been restrained, drained of energy and sapped of will.

Advantage: Bad Guys.

They had lost against these same opponents before – twice; as a team and individually. Batman didn't have to look at the others to know what they were thinking… he was thinking the same thing himself: there will NOT be a third.

Standing in the ranks of the noblest people he had ever known, Batman took one last moment to finish preparing himself. He fused is focus to the fury and turmoil boiling amidst all the grief that he had bottled within himself.

Was he working at full capacity? No. Was his body without damage? No. Did that matter?

No.

'_Contain the wrath… and then… UNLEASH it!'_

And the bottle was opened…

* * *

BETA WORLD – Gotham Stadium

The battle was epic.

Yes, Grodd's forces were in sync. They were well-trained and efficient… deadly. But they were **outnumbered.** The Justice League now had found a new, potent and unforeseen eighth member; the **people.**

**Seventy-five thousand fans** were cheering them on. Thousands of voices screamed and shouted their support. The waving arms and high-fives… the **energy**… it all coalesced within each of the Leaguers as they fought.

Adrenaline flushed Batman's pain down to the bottom of his brain. The rush and the roar of the crowd gave him strength. It was new for him. Ever the hidden terror, he avoided prying eyes at every turn, but this time was different. This time he had no choice. He was in the center ring; a spectacle for the people to **see** and **watch**. And they cheered for him, sending him their power… and he **used **it. Through the nausea and the dizziness, he raged on.

They all did.

Whatever sophisticated regimen Grodd had instituted, it didn't match the League's motivation or the crowd's pure will. No, the League was unstoppable. Their purpose was solidified. Their cohesion wove their actions into an irresistible force that Grodd's lackeys couldn't counter. They attacked in formation. They traded opponents in mid-strike, causing a split second of confusion before devastation. They fought as one unit, as individuals, as small teams. One by one, each rogue was downed. One by one, Grodd's soldiers were neutralized.

It wasn't long before Batman found himself alone against…

'_Shade!'_

He was able to dispose of that damned 'nightstick' or whatever he called it and squared up against the slender man. Under normal circumstances, it would have been an easy win for him, but he already had one strike against him; his injuries and suffering he endured while held captive—it still lingered. All too quickly the second strike became evident; Shade had learned. The fight soon became an enduring test of martial ability.

He tried to end it quickly—before any random throw or kick hinted at his deteriorated condition. He dug deep and he willed himself to use the energy of the cheering masses. But being genuinely injured and nearing exhaustion, the roar of the crowd couldn't carry him indefinitely. He fought on, but for each throw, he was countered more easily. For each strike, he was struck back harder by a relatively fresh and determined opponent. His stamina waned. His reflexes were growing duller with each blow. He naturally fell back onto the simplest of fighting foundations, defending and avoiding… attacking when he could… but no matter what combination he threw, he couldn't secure the upper hand.

Then it happened; he found himself on the ground and vulnerable. He knew that if Shade could muster up the right strike, it could be devastating.

He saw the fist coming.

In that split second, he was too angry to allow himself to feel helpless, and whatever blow Shade landed on him, it wouldn't necessarily be fatal but it would take its toll. He gritted his teeth and braced himself.

An explosion of red and blue erupted in front of him, eclipsing his attacker. He heard the sickening crunch of fingers and knuckles shattering. Shade had been thwarted when his unfortunate hand smashed into Superman's unyielding chest.

'_Clark…'_

It was déjà vu. He was faced with an inevitable attack only to be saved by Superman's impervious presence. It was an old feeling... a **good** feeling. It was a sense of security, knowing that **if** he stumbled, there was somebody to give him a hand. His own Superman hadn't helped him like that in a long, long time… but he used to.

The cynical Justice Lord Bat that lingered within him quickly crushed the warm rush of relief that threatened to envelope him. That damned bat replaced gratitude with an embarrassing awareness that he had just been schooled by a second-rate fighter like Shade in front of a raving crowd. The microsecond of vulnerability that he almost felt was quickly forgotten and substituted with vane bravado.

He stood up quickly and squared against his partner, pride driving his need to save face.

"I could have…!" he started.

"What?" Superman demanded of him, not allowing him any form of offensive.

The world seemed to stop and a million thoughts and feelings flooded into his mind and heart.

He could have continued with the tirade he was about to reflexively unleash. He could have made some kind of scene, declaring for all watching that he didn't need anybody's help, let alone that of the Man of Steel. His gut wanted him to do something like that.

But those blue eyes… that strong jaw… this was not Lord Superman, no. This was a different Clark. This was a **good man**_._ This Superman **helped** him, he didn't out-do him. He simply came to the aid of a teammate, he wasn't showing him up. It was another natural move by a member of a band of colleagues, selflessly **choosing** to work together for the greater good. It's what they do.

Despite the recent tension, this was still a **League.** This was still a team of heroic individuals trying to ensure balance, peace and justice in their world. These people were still **good.**

They may not fully realize it, but he did. He knew, then, that they couldn't separate. No, this Justice League wasn't going to disband. Not now. Maybe not ever. In fact, he realized that he **hoped** never. The world would always need them.

And the stupidity that they all tried to say to each other not so long ago—in time and with work it would sink into irrelevance. It _had_ to. And he could be the one to help that happen.

He quickly swallowed his pride.

"Thanks," he said simply.

Nobody else would have caught the hint of surprise and appreciation that crossed Superman's face for the briefest of moments. But he did.

It was a start.

It was a seed planted in fertile soil that, with luck and work, would restore the bonds of the Justice League, making them stronger than ever. They had to be strong and they had to endure.

For the need of their work and their mission and their legacy was **Eternal.**

* * *

AN: OK, so there it is; Chapter 15. It was a long time coming, but I hope it was a good read. As far as my take on the scenes of Secret Society… I didn't like the part at the end where a nobody like Shade could learn to take down Batman just by working with Grodd for a few days. To me, there had to be something else, so after I thought about it for a while, I decided that, for whatever reason, Batman wouldn't have been at 100% for the fight – the others may have been, being Meta and all, but unfortunately, not him. I also like delving into Bruce as a human, recognizing that he **must** have at least traces of humanity within him and he probably has to constantly work on suppressing them. He's got to feel fear and self-doubt on occasion – but he's just too damn good overcoming that for anybody to actually know. That's what I like about him as a character – he overcomes… everything, all the time, no matter what.

AN: A couple of VERY astute observations about Chapter 14 were presented in a few reviews and PM's, etc… the most common one revolving about Batman changing into civilian attire and subsequently getting captured by GL right after they got back to the cave, etc. First, let me say THANKS to the reviewers for two things; 1, reviewing and 2. For catching that! It was planned, btw… really. Second, (spoiler) I plan on addressing that and a few other things when the two Batmen trade back (coming soon).

AN: I know I ended Chapter 14 with a little bit of a cliff-hanger. Don't worry, the next chapter picks right back up where that one left off. I had to get this one up BEFORE the Batmen reconnect because I thought it was a crucial step into Ex-Lord Batman's own personal journey. Chapter 16 should be up pretty soon!


	16. Chapter 16: Discoveries

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything but the plot and some lint in my left pocket.

AN: Thanks again goes out to Litra and Hepburn - two very fine individuals.

* * *

ETERNAL: CHAPTER 16 - Discoveries

ALPHA WORLD – Batcave… a visitor is freeing Batman Beta from his improvised prison.

"Diana, you…"

"Wrong! I'm not **her**," the woman interrupted sternly. Her voice was eerily familiar in timbre, but chillingly disturbing in emotion.

Bruce tried to blink his eyes clear and adjust to the new illumination. It only took a few brief moments, which was much longer than his incredible mind needed to absorb this… person… this **stranger**.

She **looked **like Wonder Woman. Everything about her seemed identical to the way his Wonder Woman looked back in his own world. The armor, the lasso, the bracers, the tiara… everything. Her physique seemed identical as well.

At first.

After a few seconds, his keen eye caught subtle differences. She was shorter. Not much… maybe half an inch, maybe more. Her hair was very dark, but it wasn't a deep raven black. No, the sheen to it wasn't as pronounced… wasn't that midnight blue/black that he liked. Her face wasn't as sculpted, either. Her cheeks looked a little fuller, and her mouth had a slight pout to it.

No, this wasn't Diana… but it could have been. It could have been Diana in her late teens.

The scowl, however, was the same.

Her incredible arms flexed straight as she finished spreading the two prison cells apart and she marched pointedly at him. Everything he saw about her spelled out aggression… but not attack. Part of his instinct demanded that he prepare for a fight, but another small and more trusted part of his intuition commanded that he wait.

His patience was rewarded by a vice-like right fist gripping the front of his shirt. He allowed himself to be dragged out into the open training arena like a sack full of rags. Her pace didn't slow a hitch despite hauling his weight and she strode purposefully towards the padded floor of the sparring area. There, smack in the center, she dropped him onto his side and towered over him, her tight fists planted on her hips.

"Here's what's going to happen," she started with ample authority and a cold voice. She continued on with her demands and threats, staring down her nose at him. "First, you're going to tell me where **she **is… that **traitor**… the one you stupidly mistook me for. Next, we're going to gather your **friends** and I'm taking all of you to Themyscira. That's where we're going to have a little **trial **for the whole world to see so you can be held responsible for all the evil that you've done. When my mother has a chance to…"

"Your **mother**?" he asked, finally taking the initiative to try to stand up.

"Yes, my mother; Queen Hippolyta. I know you know her, so don't act like you…"

"I know who Queen Hippolyta is," he interrupted, finally standing up to his full height. Even with the heels of her boots, she wasn't yet eye-to-eye with him. He had been right; she was a half inch shorter. "But her only child is Diana… who are you?"

He hadn't even finished his sentence before she threw a fierce, accusatory finger in his direction.

"DON'T say that name to me EVER… AGAIN! That wretched creature is a deceitful traitor!"

She went on about Diana betraying her mother and all Amazons and woman-kind in general. While she did, Bruce continued to listen… and think.

And plan.

'_Whoever she is, she knew where to find me… and she has the balls to go after Batman in his own Batcave. She made an impressive entrance, showing off her meta-human strength. She can fly. She's trying to intimidate me. She's arrogant and angry… young… impatient… inexperienced. Keep talking, Honey. The more time you waste, the easier this will be...'_

Seconds. That's all it took for him to devise a way to turn the tables.

Eventually, she completed her tirade and tried to establish herself with authority.

"So, now, little man, you're going to tell me **exactly **what I want to know or I'm going to break a limb for every minute you waste."

"Oh, I'll tell you," he answered, while turning his head to look around as if he were distracted. "But first, you're going to have to help me find my…ah! There it is!"

He caught the slight turn of her head as she tried to look for whatever it was that he was "looking" for. It was just enough of a distraction to serve as a launch pad for his three-phase assault.

Pretending as if he had discovered something, he turned his body a little more towards his left… back towards the cell she just dragged him out of. She turned, too, continuing to help him 'search'. In a flash, his foot planted behind her leg and a powerful shove of his elbow knocked her backwards off-balance. It wasn't enough to sweep her off her feet, but it was enough to make her stumble… and then retaliate with a vengeance. Phase one complete.

She corrected herself and quickly adjusted to a fighting stance—one of aggression and attack. Her left fist jabbed and was followed immediately by a tremendous right hook. He easily swatted the jab away then ducked the hook, stepping forward letting her slide right by—their bodies brushing each other as they passed. Phase two complete.

Of course, she was so incensed, so intent on destroying the brazen mortal that dared to challenge her, so infuriated at how easily he avoided her attacks and how foolish and clumsy he made her look… she failed to realize how easily he set her up for phase three. She failed to realize how easily he **stole her lasso** right off her hip.

She spun around with a fierce growl, her white teeth grinding in frustration. She let out a battle cry as she launched through the air, her twin fists predictably aimed right at his head.

It wasn't hard for him to finish his plan. He simply side-stepped her attack, holding up the looped coils of her own weapon for her fists to get tangled in. A quick yank, a flip of a wrist and a few laughable seconds later, and she was completely ensnared, immobile and really, really pissed.

"Alright then, little girl," he said with as much condescension as a Batman can find, "let's start this over from the beginning. Who are you? Why are you here? And what have you done with Hawkgirl and Green Lantern?"

"I didn't do anything with them… yet!"

He paused for a moment to ponder.

"If you don't…" she started.

"Shhh."

He thought for another second.

"LET ME GO!"

"Wait here," he told her as if it mattered before he quickly marched out the arena door and across the catwalk. He knew from first-hand experience that anybody tied up like that in Diana's lasso wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon.

Sure enough, Lantern and Hawkgirl were nowhere to be seen. He continued on towards his computer consoles and a few short keystrokes later, a map of the globe appeared on the biggest monitor. Three flashing dots, representing himself, Shayera and John were blinking in Gotham. A split second later, the image zoomed in to localize them all on the Manor grounds. Another split second after that and a three-dimensional wire image of the house and cave sprang up and panned around. His own flashing locator showed he was deep underground. The other two were almost superimposed on one another up in the house.

In her bedroom.

"Ah."

With that question answered he strode casually back towards his newest captive only to find that she was…

Gone!

He stopped dead in his tracks at the doorway, taking in all he could… waiting… watching… listening.

Nothing.

He turned and sprinted back towards his computers and quickly brought up the surveillance feed from the training arena. Scanning backwards he saw that a few seconds he left her alone, she was teleported away.

'_What?'_

He rewound the footage and watched again. There was something that he couldn't put his finger on right away. He watched it again, and it finally sunk in. The blaze of energy that engulfed her seemed different somehow. It wasn't the familiar blue-white blaze that he had come to know so well, no. It was quicker. It wasn't a gradual build, but more of a flash, taking half the time that a normal teleport would. He watched again and again, trying to analyze further when he noticed something else: her lips were moving.

'_She was talking to somebody?'_

He quickly turned the volume up and played it again. He couldn't hear her voice, so he turned the volume up all the way and tried yet again.

She was whispering.

"I don't care what you told me do," she hissed through clenched teeth, "I'm not waiting any more. We have our chance… the time is **now!** This has to stop!"

Then she was gone.

He leaned back into his chair and pondered the concept. She wasn't acting alone. It even sounded like she was working **for** somebody. In fact, the rebellious tone of her voice suggested that she was actually going against orders.

'_She's clearly an Amazon. Could she have been talking to other Amazons? Do they even _have_ the technological know-how to build teleporters? Was it magic? Sorcery?'_

Could she be part of the mystery of who was coordinating an attack between this world and his?

His attention quickly returned to his monitors and he swiveled towards the small ones to his left as his fingers pummeled the keyboards. The sensor and monitor readings blazed across the screens and his eyebrows burrowed deeper in frustration as he analyzed what he saw.

NONE of his instruments had recorded any indication that a teleport took place.

"Batman to Watchtower!" he barked over his com link.

"Watchtower, here sir!"

"Report all teleporter activity in the last five minutes!"

"Aye, sir. Just a second…"

The second took forever.

"There hasn't been any teleporter activity on the Watchtower in two and a half hours… the last teleport was logged when Lord Hawkgirl was sent to Secure Location Alpha by Technician TK421."

"Did sensors detect any other teleport activity anywhere at all?"

"No, sir."

"You're sure about that?" he demanded, not bothering to suppress the urgency in his voice. "No other teleports anywhere on the planet were detected?"

"Uh… yes, sir. That's what the sensor logs show."

"Get me the shift supervisor."

"Aye, sir. Please hold."

He replayed the video again and again in the few seconds pause he suffered through.

"Commander Brandish here, sir. Go ahead."

"Commander, who is currently manning the teleporters?"

"Technician DD214… Jeffries, Thomas K., sir. Why? Is there a problem?"

"How long has he been on staff?"

"I don't know the exact date he was transferred to the Watchtower unit, but it's been a while… probably about 15 months or so. Should I get him for you?"

"No… Lord Batman out."

He sank back into his chair, puzzled and more than a little concerned. To think that somebody knew the location of the Batcave… and that they could recognize that, even out of uniform, _he_ was Batman was disturbing enough. The fact that somebody else on the planet may have teleporters was equally so… teleportation magic was worse. But to know that they had the ability to do all this undetected was more than disturbing… it was downright dangerous.

* * *

ALPHA WORLD – Wayne Manor, Excelsior Guest Room in the east wing…

Shayera sighed an utterly contented sigh as her head rest on John's strong chest. A soft smile graced her supple lips.

It had been too long…

This had been the most complete and enveloping encounter these two had shared in… she couldn't even remember. Sure, they'd had sex… but this was more. This was heaven.

John's gentle hand stroked her hair and glided down to her back.

"I'm still trying to get used to you without wings," he murmured.

"Me too, sometimes," she said. "I never thought I'd be comfortable like this, but I am. In fact, I'm really starting to enjoy this."

She didn't mean to say any more on the subject, but the tone of her voice was unmistakable. Clearly, there was more to be said.

John caught it.

"What do you mean?"

She sighed again, but not so pleasantly.

Her countless hours alone at Wayne Manor had given her ample time to reflect on her situation and her life. She was changing as a person and she knew it. Finding comfort in that fact wasn't easy for her and she had kept herself up some nights trying to figure out a way to embrace it. Eventually, she found within herself a streak of comfort about being who she was now.

About being human.

Her own acceptance was one thing to achieve. Explaining it to others was something else entirely.

How could she tell people that she was happier now? How could she explain to her colleagues that she didn't miss being a Justice Lord, let along being Hawkgirl? How could she explain to John the comfort she found when she was simply walking through a grocery store and realized that the people around her accepted her as one of their own?

She fit in now. She finally found a home again. And she liked it.

The conflict that she and Batman had against Deloris Winters and Rhonda Yearling didn't dissuade her, either. Yes, she relished the rush of adrenaline and the excitement of the battle, but she also had an unnerving fear as well. Without her strength and abilities, she felt exposed and vulnerable… weak. Had Batman not stepped in, she couldn't really say for sure that she wouldn't have died.

She used to revel in thrill of battle. She used to thrive on the uncertainty of a fight. The true Thanagarian warrior within drove her and carried her and she used to bask in the excitement and take comfort in the afterglow. It had been her entire way of life for her whole life. The danger didn't register in her mind then – it was only the rush she got when she dominated her opponents and overcame the impossible.

But not anymore.

Now, she felt fear. She couldn't get over her sense of fragility. For whatever reason, those feelings of anxiety and dread didn't sit well with her any more. She wasn't even sure if she ever felt them before, but that didn't really matter – she did now.

What's more, she actually found that, each day, she didn't miss that old life. She didn't miss being a warrior. She was enjoying a new life as a simpler person… as a human… as a woman. Not that she ever thought that humans in general or human women in particular weren't capable of savoring the fire of battle within. But she found a contentedness in releasing that portion of life.

She had first realized it when that handsome stranger walked with her as she shopped. He tried a few times to be chivalrous, and to his credit, he didn't over-do it. No, he was polite and kind and very attentive to her – not because she was a Justice Lord, not because she was Hawkgirl… and definitely not because she knew seventeen different strikes that could be incapacitating or fatal. Even with the understanding that there was no romantic future between the two, that handsome young man showed true interest in her **as a person**. That was new to her as much as anything. She liked it.

For those few days when she was captive in her cell, she had grown numb to the whole situation. After the pleasant incident at the grocery store, she grew a spark of hope and developed a sense that things weren't as bleak as she thought. Eventually, she wrestled with the concept of returning to normal – getting her Thanagarian abilities back and reestablishing herself as Hawkgirl again. She finally forced herself to think that it was really the best thing for everybody – to get things back to the way they were. But as time passed, and she was able to recognize that Hawkgirl's presence on Earth wasn't missed as much as she would have thought a few months ago, she wondered if **she** missed Hawkgirl… and she couldn't say for sure that she did.

When that sank in, she then had to wrestle with the notion of selfishness one gets when giving up power and responsibility for a little bit of contented life. She justified it as 'taking a break' for a while. But the longer the while lasted, the more she acclimated to her new life and the less she desired to go back to her old one. If nobody demanded Hawkgirl's presence, was she really obliged to provide it?

She was even hesitant to admit that she took pleasure in the domestic things she did around the Manor. She didn't mind helping out wherever she could. When she found Bruce's housekeeping efforts frustratingly lacking, she discovered that it didn't aggravate or annoy her as much as she found it amusing that there were simple things in every-day life that the Great Batman couldn't master. On top of that, she found that she even took pride in **helping** him on his mission. It seemed to go hand-in-glove with her newly-found sense of peace.

As she lay in the heavenly-soft covers with her beloved John, she swallowed and found the strength to admit all of these things to him.

He listened, of course. Ever the stalwart and trustworthy soul, he held her in his powerful arms and dutifully absorbed every word she spilled. He listened until she had unloaded all the burdens within her and she leaned up off his chest, searching his eyes for some kind of feedback.

"That's how you really feel, then?" he asked her quietly, his expression showing nothing akin to judgment or rejection.

She took a moment before answering.

"Yeah," she finally said, nodding gently. "That's how I feel."

His green eyes drifted off to some imaginary point a thousand miles away and his face stayed as passive as ever. She watched him and waited.

"Say something, John."

A small frown passed over his face before it blossomed into a compassionate smile and he looked right back at her.

"If that's the way you feel, then I'm behind you 100%. Nobody's going to force you to do something you don't want to do."

Smiling, she lay back down, squeezing him tightly.

"Thank you, John."

He hugged her back for a few tender seconds, but released her before ambushing her with a dire question.

"What about the Justice Lords? Have you told Batman about this?"

"No, I haven't told him. The time hasn't been right."

"Well, when **will** it be right?"

"I don't know. I've thought about that, but I haven't really come up with any good ideas. I figured that we'll try to get things as back-to-normal as possible around her before I upset anything else, y'know?"

"Yeah… I guess that makes sense."

With one more loving embrace, John got up and put on a robe.

* * *

ALPHA WORLD – BATCAVE

Batman turned back towards the computer console, eyeing the screen and the blinking dots that showed John and Shayera's com link locations.

He paused for about a second and a half, realizing that he might be interrupting… something. The colder part of his complex psyche forced himself to realize that physical lust and sexual gratification doesn't trump the importance of global security. The more human side of him (that found a way to survive somehow) suggested that waiting a few minutes more wouldn't hurt too much.

To his relief he didn't have to force a decision because, as he watched, one of the dots started moving towards the bathroom.

'_Good,'_ he thought. _'They're done!'_

He hit the proper commands to open a channel to both their com links, deliberately making sure it was an official channel that would be logged and monitored by the Watchtower's communications equipment.

"Lord Batman to Green Lantern and Hawkgirl."

"Lantern Here."

"Go ahead, Batman."

"Report to my location immediately, there's a security issue to address."

They didn't respond as quickly as he wanted. He also wanted to make sure that anybody that was listening got the show he wanted them to witness.

"Now!" he added coldly.

"Roger."

"On my way."

Within a few minutes the two came trotting down the stairs into the cave, dressed in casual clothes, none the worse for wear. At first, they appeared to be prepared for whatever emergency he had, but as they drew closer, he caught the tell-tale signs of their recent physicality. He tried to suppress the instinct to berate them for leaving him in his cell as they screwed like teenagers while their daddies were away.

"We just had an intruder in the Batcave," he said forcefully.

"A what?" Shayera was the first to say. "Who? When?"

"A woman—just a few minutes ago, while you two were upstairs going at each other like-"

"What woman?" Lantern interrupted, keeping to the topic on hand.

Bruce's fingers assaulted the keyboards and the security footage of what had just transpired replayed for them to analyze again. They watched as she flew into the cave from the driving entrance. She went directly into the training arena and right up to the two holding cells where Bruce was trapped just minutes ago. They each commented on her strength as she pried the cells apart and dragged Bruce out with one hand. And they made more comments about how easily he had subdued her despite her obvious arrogance and frustration.

"That _really_ does look like Diana," Shayera said for probably the fifth time.

"But it's not," Bruce said for about the sixth time. "She said Hippolyta was her mother… she has superhuman strength and the power of flight. She has Diana's old armor and lasso… but she's not Diana."

"Well," John spoke up with resolve in his voice as his ring changed his attire to his Green Lantern uniform, "let's just go pay a little visit to Themyscira."

"I don't think so," Shayera said, skeptically shaking her head. "She said that she wanted to take us all there and have a 'trial', whatever that means… so they could be preparing for us with heightened security and defenses."

"They've never been able to stop us before," Lantern replied.

"No, they've never been able to stop the _Justice Lords_ before," Bruce corrected. "You and I are the only ones that are at full strength. The three of us can't just barge in there if they're prepared."

"Alright then," Lantern said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the console, "what's our next move?"

"First," Bruce answered after thinking, "you two will have to go up to the Watchtower and download some logs and readings and send them down to me here."

"Ok," Shayera said. "What about you?"

"I have to access some other equipment that I have. Whoever it is, they're either using a new type of technology or masking device… or magic. I have to figure out what that is before we can find out who this woman was working with."

* * *

Alpha World – Batcave, an hour later…

Zatanna hadn't been in the Batcave in a long, long time. Despite the fact that there was a history when she had been _very_ used to Bruce Wayne and Wayne Manor – even used to Batman himself – she never really found a way to get comfortable in the cave. The 'vibe' of the whole place gave her the shivers.

Batman had contacted her and told her that she was needed on an 'official Justice Lords investigation.' The Watchtower staff teleported her up to the Watchtower, where she was quickly briefed on the protocol established for all visitors to Justice Lord facilities. After those agonizingly drawn-out fifteen minutes of life that she'll never get back again, they finally sent her down to Secure Location Alpha upon Lord Batman's direction.

"Jesus, Bruce," she said with an exasperated sigh, collapsing into a chair. "I thought you said you were trying to change all that."

"I am," he answered, not looking away from the computer monitors.

"Then what's with all the _'There will be no deviating from the prescribed protocol'_ shit that I just sat through for the past Lord knows how long?"

"Standard procedures, Zee. This kind of change is a slow process."

"Well, whatever," she mumbled before changing gears. "So… what's so important that I had to push back my azalea deliveries?"

He stopped typing and finally swiveled in his chair to face her.

"I need you to scan the cave for any traces of magic. I need to know if there have been any spells or charms cast recently."

"I see. Can you be more specific? Anybody I know? Any charms or spells that they-"

"No," he interrupted sternly. "I need a thorough and complete scan for _anything_, no matter what source, no matter who made it… no matter how small or trivial."

"OK," she sighed, "But that'll take longer… and it'll be a lot harder for me to do. First I'll need to cast a spell to retrieve my little bag of trinkets."

"I understand."

"And what about your 'Big Brother' in the sky, there?" she asked, thumbing upward. "What'll happen when they detect my _'Unofficial use of mystical powers'_ or whatever bullshit you classify it as?"

"Don't worry about it. They've been informed. Besides, in order to keep the Batcave's location a secret from even the Watchtower's scans I have the area shielded from magic with-"

"Oh, yeah… that little box you built. What was that supposed to do? Block all traces of incoming and outgoing spells?"

"Something like that."

"I told you," she said, standing up, "that you'll never be able to use technology to mask pure magic."

"I know," he answered, standing as well.

"But still, you think that somebody has been using magic here in the cave and-"

"Just scan the area, Zee."

"Alright, alright! Mr. Impatient! Sheesh!"

With a wave of her hand and a graceful spin, she transformed into her magician's tuxedo. It took Bruce longer than he realized to tear himself away from her divine legs in their sassy fishnets, but when he finally did, he found her naughty smirk and twinkling eyes awaiting him. She tossed him a wink and a smile and turned away, strutting towards the catwalk that led to the training arena.

Along the way, she uttered a few backwards incantations and called a small burlap satchel out of thin air. She knelt formally in the center of the circle that was printed on the padded floor of the sparring area, placing the sack on the ground in front of her.

"Could you turn the lights down?" she asked, but before he could respond, she changed her mind. "No, never mind I'll get them." And with a wave of her hand the cavern faded to an even gloomier ambience.

She slowly pulled out various objects, bottles and powders doing this and that with each item; waving her hands, speaking in reverse. She placed items here and spilled out ingredients there. She swung her hand around in a grand sweep over her head and a soft arc of purple haze shimmered in its wake.

After a while, and with a few more backwards phrases, pockets of rocky areas hidden amongst the crags and stalactites started softly glowing bluish-purple. Within seconds, the pockets linked up with each other through soft columns of white lightning, forming a net of magical energy.

Zantanna's head fell backwards, her mouth gaping open, her eyes rolled back into her head. Slowly, her body levitated off the floor, a small shower of silvery sparkles glittering off her hands evaporating in a shimmering aura.

Bruce stayed as unmoving as a statue during the whole episode. As much as he disdained magic, he had to respect it – if for nothing else than the fact that it was something he couldn't master and couldn't control. He also had a fully vested interest in the outcome of Zee's findings and he didn't want _anything_ to taint her scans.

It was only a few moments, but they were uncomfortable ones for him. Finally, like the lights coming on in a bar after last call, the magic stopped and the cave brightened up again. She finished and landed gently on her feet. When she turned around, he could see that she was a little drained for her effort, but she quickly recovered. They joined each other, walking out of the training arena and back towards the computer consoles.

"I'm sorry, Bruce," she told him as they crossed the catwalk. "I didn't find any trace of magic… at all."

"Did your spell scan the whole cave or just the training arena?"

"The whole cave. I just went in there because it was further away from your technology out here – I wanted to minimize the chance of any kind of interference with the spell."

"I see. So… there was nothing then? No charms, no amulets, no spells… nothing?"

"Nada," she answered, shaking her head. They reached the computer consoles again and she turned to look up into his clear, blue eyes.

"Ok, that's all I needed to know," he said. "Thank you."

"Thank you?" she asked somewhat surprised. "Whoa… who are you and what have you done with the _real_ Bruce Wayne?"

He knew she was joking, but knowing the fact that he wasn't 'the real Bruce Wayne' of this world made him inwardly cringe… just not enough for him to outwardly show it.

"Like I said," he told her, "I'm trying to make things better around here. That includes my image."

"Uh-huh," she smiled pretending to not really believe him.

"If you're finished," he said a little more forcefully than was necessary.

"I am, but…" she paused, her grin fading and her eyes growing more thoughtful. Clearly she was trying to think of the best way to finish whatever it was she wanted to say.

He waited.

Taking a step closer to him, until their bodies were mere inches apart… so close that he could smell her mesmerizing scent and feel the heat radiating off her sculpted form… she looked up into his eyes with a trusting expression that only showed that she needed sincerity and honesty.

"You really are trying to fix things, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Her eyes drifted and although he couldn't discern exactly what she was thinking, it was clear that she was thinking very, very deeply. More than he would have expected. When she finally looked back up at him, her face had bloomed into a more appreciative, if not impressed expression.

"I hope so," she confessed in a soft and sincere voice… almost a whisper. "I really… really hope so."

With that, she rose up higher onto her tip-toes, slid her sensual arms around his neck and planted a soft, slow, _burning_ kiss on his cheek. He couldn't help his hands from find themselves on her trim hips.

They stayed that way for a few seconds longer, their bodies daring to remember how easily they used to fit to one another, before they forced themselves to let each other go. When they finally did, they both had to make the conscious effort to reestablish their platonic condition.

"I should go now."

He nodded, his lips thinning ever-so-slightly.

"Batman to Watchtower. Return my witness to her place of origin."

"Aye, sir. Please stand by."

* * *

AN: Originally, Chapters 15 & 16 were one chapter – but it was way too long, so I split them up. I know Ch15 was probably NOT what many of you were expecting, but I thought it was important to show you that Batman Alpha is experiencing something that could cause his own internal compass to turn. I also tried to interweave it with an actual pair of episodes from the JL animated series. I'm not a big fan of simply re-hashing what the shows did, so I tried to avoid doing that… on the flip side I when I cited actions or dialog from the show, I tried to get it as exact as I remembered it. I hope I didn't mess all that up too badly.

AN: DON'T WORRY! There's some good BM/WW stuff coming up. I didn't explicitly dive into John and Shayera's "encounter" because frankly I didn't want to. What they did wasn't as important as the fact as they did it… which I think we've established. The chapter was long enough without superfluous steaminess. In fact, looking back on the story now, there's been NO real heat for either BM or WW. So, I indulged in my fantasy of a sizzling, sexy and flirty Zatanna. I never read any comics, so all I know about her relationship with Bruce is what I've seen in the cartoons and what I've read in other FanFics… and since the Alpha world part of this is AU, I wanted to approach them like old High School sweethearts, etc. (for either world). Bruce is comfortable around her for the most part, but still a little guarded (of course). Since they're on good terms, then I'd have to believe that there's still a tiny physical spark there, too. I mean, how could there NOT be any spark between them still? He's Bruce Wayne and she's… well look at her!

AN: One more thing... some of you have caught it here and there others, not so much. I've taken to hiding little 'easter eggs' in chapters now and again. By that I mean that a name, a phrase, a setting or location... _something_ is in reference to some other movie or tv show or story somehow. There are two in this chapter - one you might find if you're a science fiction movie nerd, the other only if you were in the military. Let me know if you find them!


	17. Chapter 17: Diana and Bruce

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything but the plot and a handful of rubberbands.

AN: Thanks to Litra and Hepburn for the help and the feedback – but this chapter is very largely un-beta'd.

* * *

ETERNAL: CHAPTER 17 – Diana and Bruce

Alpha World, The outskirts of Gotham…

Diana's leather chaps, gloves and jacket kept most of the cold wind off her as the scenery rolled by, changing from rural to suburban, the towering buildings of the city growing clearer through the morning haze. Fortunately, no snow had fallen yet and it was a warm day for early December, but still a little too cold for a casual motorcycle rider to be out for a ride. She had learned to like it to a point; to enjoy the chilling drafts. She felt it was refreshing in the morning to start out with clear, sunny skies and crisp, brisk air. By the end of the day, though, she whole-heartedly welcomed a warm shower and comfortable bed in whatever motel she could find for the night. A hot bowl of soup helped, too.

The buildings and neighborhoods breezing by became more familiar. Perhaps it was because she was on her motorcycle and not in a limousine or the Batmobile, or flying overhead… perhaps it was her newly re-found sense of life still radiating within her… whatever the reason, as she rumbled on her sleek machine past the small apartments and little stores and shops, she felt a stronger connection with the faces she saw. They weren't divided from her any more. They weren't 'the people'… they were just people. They were just like her – or rather, she was just like them now.

Her path would take her from the southwest side of the city towards Wayne Manor on the northern end. She could have taken the highway bypass, but instead chose to brave the Thursday morning traffic down-town. Rush hour was ending and although it was stop-and-go for a while, she didn't mind the delays. Some of the people in the sedans and SUV's that passed her by – changing lanes without signaling or even looking out for others – they had their own problems and reasons for their anxiety. She didn't. She wasn't in a hurry. She had no deadlines to meet. She really had no obligation to get where she was going other than she **chose** to go there. In that, she found relaxation.

Anxiety of a different sort, however, did sneak up on her. She had felt the first pangs of it in the darkness last night, when she saw the highway sign telling her it was 106 miles to Gotham. She pulled off and found a place to eat and a place to sleep. She topped off her gas tank and took a shower. She concentrated on the positives – like she used to do so easily. She forced herself to find and enjoy the comforts of 'going home' again – although she found that she really had to make an effort to think of this city as 'home'.

Now, as the mid-morning traffic sounds echoed through the marble, glass and granite canyons of downtown Gotham, she felt the anxiety sneaking again… harder. She convinced herself that it would be foolish to try to rehearse any kind pre-conceived speech or bullet point monolog for her first conversation with Bruce. He would see it for what it was; a script. No, instead she thought that she would 'play it by ear.' She would answer his questions without omission or pause. She would ask him whatever questions popped into her mind. She wouldn't filter anything other than to make sure that what she said vocalized exactly what she felt in clear, concise terms.

That was the best way, she had decided, to make sure that she spoke the truth – not what she wanted to be the truth. It was something she never had a problem with before…

The city streets broadened and the buildings ran shorter as she jockeyed her way out of down-town, past the theater district and towards the more well-to-do suburbs of the north side. The light posts lining the sidewalks were adorned with glittery garlands and bows. The shop fronts had pine sprigs and lights. The occasional window had artificially-frosted corners and ornamental displays enticing passers-by in to shop.

Eventually, the small trees gave way to bigger ones. The shops ended and the houses began – the front yards growing larger and more elaborately maintained. As she passed various neighborhoods, the houses slowly became small mansions. She was getting closer.

Eventually, she turned onto that familiar road that wound its way past the lavish complexes belonging to the ultra-rich sports heroes and movie stars and carved its way through the forests towards the biggest house in the state.

All the while, navigating her beloved motorcycle up the familiar grounds, she managed to keep the euphoria of returning home as her chosen feeling. She looked forward to the comfort of the luxurious surroundings; the ample furniture, the books and the fireplaces, the dining room. She made the deliberate choice to get excited about spending the night in her own humongous, heavenly-soft bed in her own bedroom, and **not** dwell on the fact that she would be sleeping alone while he was right down the hall.

It wasn't long before she rode the final stretch of drive and parked her bike in front of the steps leading up to the enormous oak doors. She killed the engine, dropped the kickstand and dismounted, taking off her helmet and looking up at the grandeur of the towering house. It seemed far more imposing to her than it ever had before and part of her felt like she was really seeing it for the first time.

She planted her helmet on the backrest and stretched her tight muscles, took a deep cleansing breath and grabbed her trash bag full of belongings. She climbed the steps and stopped a few feet away from the entrance, composing herself before she reached for the huge brass handles. She ran her fingers through her short hair, took a breath and huffed it out through puffed-up cheeks.

"Here goes," she muttered to nobody.

Her hand reached for the handle, but before she grabbed it, the door swung open and she found herself face-to-face with an over-joyed Shayera.

"Diana!"

She wasn't prepared for the affectionate hug she received, but she found herself welcoming it just the same. She hugged back with her left arm, her right still holding her trash bag. It took a few seconds but eventually, her hand started patting Shayera's back up and down as if something were wrong.

Something **was** wrong.

Diana's blue eyes flew open and she pushed Shayera back.

"Your wings!"

The shorter woman flashed a somewhat modest, if not embarrassed, tight-lipped grin. She pirouetted slightly as she answered.

"I know… it's a little strange, isn't it? But it's only temporary. As long as I wear **this**," she explained holding up the radiant blue stone on the gold necklace, "then I look like **this**!"

Diana couldn't hide or get over her amazement. The warm, friendly, **sisterly** welcome… Shayera's unabashed affection and radically different appearance… it was comfortable by all accounts, but also somewhat **uncomfortable** in that it was absolutely **not** what Diana had expected.

"Come on," Shayera said, taking Diana's bag. "You've had a long trip, let's get you settled back in! Have you had breakfast? Absolutely LOVE the bike, by the way!"

Diana was led through the foyer towards the grand staircase.

"I had a Danish this morning before I got on the highway."

Shayera stopped.

"You must be starving! Why don't we get you something to eat first, then?"

They changed courses and headed towards the kitchen. To Diana's surprise, it was actually _clean_. Maybe not as immaculate as Alfred used to keep it, but definitely much tidier than it was the last time she tried to eat there.

"Have a seat," Shayera told her. "I can make you an omelet or something if you like… or maybe you're up for an early lunch?"

"Actually, if you have any fresh fruit I-"

"You **are **here!" a man said from behind her.

Diana spun around to find John Stewart in casual attire walking into the kitchen.

"I thought I heard your voice!" he said as he strode across the floor and gave her another warm hug. "How've you been, Diana? You look great!"

"Doesn't she?" Shayera beamed.

"I'm doing well, John, thanks. I-"

"I was just asking her if she wanted some lunch," Shayera told John, "but since **you're **finally up, maybe I should make something for all of us."

"Oooo, sounds good! I'll give you a hand."

Diana stood slack jawed, marveling at her former Justice Lord colleagues as they floated about the kitchen, working in pure harmony getting food out of pantries and the refrigerator, plates, cutlery… the whole gamut. She was virtually speechless. For a moment she wondered if there was something wrong here. Neither of them had the air one would have expected from a meta, let alone one of the Justice Lords. No, instead, they were like some hip, new version of Ward and June Cleaver, smiling and flirting as they floated about the grand kitchen, preparing a meal.

The scene was so easy and comfortable and the actors were so natural, it almost seemed like Diana was in **their** house, waiting to eat lunch in **their** kitchen. She slowly made her way around the island and perched herself on one of the tall stools. She had to remind herself that this was **Wayne Manor**… home to Bruce Wayne, wherever he may be.

Diana counted the plates John pulled out of the cabinet.

'_One, two, three, four… five?'_

"So, Diana… leather chaps and a jacket, eh? Reinventing your look?" Shayera teased.

"I guess you could say that. I do like the jacket, but the chaps are really just for the cold-weather riding."

"Riding?" John stopped and shot her an inquisitive look.

"Yes, you see, I-" Diana tried, but once again, she was interrupted by a bubbly Shayera.

"Oh, John! You should **see** her bike – it's gorgeous!"

"Bike?" John asked, his face brightening. Like an over-excited schoolboy, he flashed a hopeful look at Diana, who smiled and nodded before he practically sprinted out of the room.

Shayera watched him leave, an amused grin on her face. Diana watched as well, but her expression was still laced with ample confusion about the whole scene that had been played out before her. She finally caught a square look into Shayera's eyes as a plate of grapes and sliced cantaloupe was placed in front of her.

The silvery-green eyes she found virtually **shined.** Before her stood a woman she couldn't say she really knew. Her face and figure were clearly Shayera's… but with no wings, with no hint of a scowl… in fact her whole appearance emanated a sense of contentedness that Diana had only rarely seen in her old colleague. She couldn't keep the dumbfounded look off her own face.

After a second, a shrewd and knowing smile spread across Shayera's rosy lips and her eyes twinkled a little more.

"Not exactly the Wayne Manor you expected to find, is it?"

Diana's eyes drifted as her eyebrows shot up. She drew in a heavy breath and tried to answer with a touch of humor and a smile.

"No… not at all."

Shayera nodded.

"Well, we all have a lot to talk about and a lot to share, but for now, let's just say that… things are good. They're good and they're getting better – for all of us. Well,** most** of us, really. I think you'll… well, I **hope** at least, that you'll agree with what we've been able to accomplish since you left."

As Shayera talked, Diana tried to absorb what was said and intuit what was left unsaid. The pleasant tone of Shayera's topical and elusive delivery didn't stop her from feeling a slight pang. The last thing she said, however, squarely hit a nerve…

"I didn't leave," Diana said coldly. "I was thrown out."

Shayera's face fell as she realized her mistake.

"Yeah… that's right," she remembered somewhat solemnly. "Bruce told me about that… I had almost forgotten. I was pretty pissed at him for treating you like that, but he said-"

"Where **is** Bruce?" Diana interrupted sternly.

"In the cave… where else?"

Diana nodded, her eyes wandering as she tried to analyze what her next move should be… because she sure as hell wouldn't be able to predict what **his** next move would be.

"He's not coming up, then is he?"

"Probably not. Not any time soon, I'd imagine."

"Well," Diana said as if she had no other choice as she stood up from the stool. "I better go see him."

She marched around the island and made for the door before Shayera called out to her. It seemed like she wanted to stop her or maybe warn her.

"Diana…" she tried, but couldn't seem to finish.

Diana waited.

After a second, Shayera forced a smile that instantly seemed to grow sincere.

"It's good to have you back," she finally said, walking over and giving another firm, warm hug.

"Thanks," Diana managed to say before she marched out the door.

* * *

Beta World – Wally West's apartment

Flash sat on his couch in his costume, his feet up on the coffee table, his cowl pulled back. He put his empty can of high-energy power drink down next to the other three he just managed to consume and unashamedly let out a window-shattering belch.

'_Whoa! That was a good one. Too bad John wasn't here…'_

His thoughts were interrupted by his 'cell phone' ringing.

"Right on time as always!" he said happily. Of course, it wasn't a cell phone in the traditional sense, but the inter-dimensional communication device that he had been using to communicate with his own Batman. "How're things going on your end?"

"_Fine. Report."_

"OK… well, first; things are going better after our little tiff I told you about the other day. Some people are still a little touchy, but for the most part, we're working together again. We took down the Secret Society and the Justice League is up and ready for action."

"_What about Grodd?"_

"He's back in custody… they all are. Well, almost all of them, I hear the authorities are having trouble finding some pieces of Clayface."

"_OK. What about your visitor?"_

"He's the same as always. I don't think anything happened to tip the others off. I mean, nobody's said anything to me about him and I haven't overheard any conversations or whatever. I'm not sure where he is…"

"_He's in the Batcave. I'm bringing him here in a few minutes and I'll be coming back."_

"Really?" Wally asked enthusiastically, sitting more upright. "Can I throw you a party?"

"_NO!"_

"Oh, come on! I'm not talking a big one or anything, well, actually it would have to be pretty small because nobody knows about it and I guess you can't really call it a party if it's only you and me and I'm NOT going to call it a date cause I don't swing that way, not that you do 'cause I don't know but hey, if you do I'm not gonna judge, but if you wanted to grab a few beers up on the watchtower I know how to sneak them up there two at a time if I… uh-oh, I probably shouldn't have told you that..."

"_FLASH! Shut up!"_

"Oh… Sorry."

Wally heard Batman draw in a huge sigh.

"_As I was saying, he'll be here for an hour while we debrief each other, then I'll be back."_

"Are you gonna be back for good or what?"

"_I can't say. Probably not. There are a few more things that I think I'll need to be involved with here."_

"OK, then. Anything else?"

"_No. I'll see you on the Watchtower tomorrow."_

"OK. Flash out. PEACE!"

* * *

Diana knew that there would be no way in the world that she could make it to the Batcave without him being able to watch every step she took along the way, so she didn't even try to be coy about it. Instead, she simply marched her way through the Manor to the master study, activated the Grandfather Clock and, with a deep breath, walked into the darkness. As she approached the bottom of the stairs, she could hear the unmistakable clacking of fingers mastering a computer keyboard.

'_Of course.'_

Returning to the Batcave was unexpectedly uneventful. Unlike the surprising domestic warmth and friendliness she encountered with John and Shayera up in the kitchen, the dank, damp coolness of the cave felt more familiar and less disturbing than she anticipated. It only made sense for her to expect **some** kind of homecoming when she arrived at the Manor, but for whatever reason, she expected it to come from Bruce—not from the others.

She reached the last step and paused for a few heartbeats with her foot hovering in mid-air, watching him for any kind of reaction. There he was; Bruce, not Batman, in a black turtleneck, working as always.

Nothing.

So she stepped down that last step and tried to not let her anxiety rise any further than it already had. By the time she got half-way to the computers, he finally stopped his typing and tore his blue eyes from the monitors. She wasn't prepared for the affect they had on her.

Those eyes… their depth and intensity… as if they didn't belong to him or to anybody but were instead a singular entity, a life force of their own, radiating confidence and strength. They were locked on to her every movement and she found herself feeling vulnerable, as if she were being examined and at the same time, she reveled from the attention and in the warmth spreading within her. It was only for a few seconds as she walked the dozen yards or so, but she felt her stomach flip with anticipation. There were so many things to be said…

She found her voice as she drew closer to him.

"Hello, Bruce."

"Hello, Princess," his smooth voice said and she melted a little bit inside.

She wandered over to an empty chair, not saying another word. All the while his blazing eyes never left her face. Part of her felt nervous for whatever reason, as if he were judging her. Another part of her, however felt a twinge of excitement, as if she had a wonderful secret to share. But while the silence dragged on, she couldn't tell which feeling was winning.

Eventually, she glided her lean hips down into the chair and adjusted the leather chaps over her black jeans. Finally, his eyes ripped away from her face and he took a glance at her legs. She caught a delicate turn at the corner of his mouth that disappeared as quickly as it came.

"They're for riding," she told him of her chaps. "I have a motorcycle now."

"I saw," he said, turning briefly towards his computers. With a few keystrokes one of the countless monitors brought up some security footage of the Manor grounds, showing her rumbling up the drive. "Is that a '48?"

"Yes, it is."

"It's nice."

"Thank you."

"Where'd you get it?"

Her angelic face blossomed with a warm smile as she considered the best way to answer.

"A friend."

He huffed out half an amused grunt.

"Must be some friend."

"He is."

Bruce nodded, his steeled eyes locked onto hers again. A pregnant pause sank in between the two as they simply sat there, each absorbing the vision of the other. Eventually, Diana found the courage to break the conversation out of its farcical pleasant facade and she tried to force herself to say something more meaningful. She had to… clearly he wasn't going to.

"In fact, after you, he's probably the most amazing man I've ever met."

Bruce's eyebrows popped up with a touch of astonishment.

"Well… I don't know whether to feel flattered by such a compliment or threatened by another man," he jibed, his face lighting up with a trademark Bruce Wayne grin.

Diana swallowed, trying to suppress her own smile. She knew he was toying with her. She knew he was deliberately keeping the atmosphere mundane and unimportant. She knew he was trying to force her to be the one to start the inevitable conversation they were destined to have. And she knew that he knew all this as well, further causing her to understand that he was also testing her in a way to see how much polite pressure she would endure before she did so.

And she also knew that even if she took the initiative to start that damned conversation, it was a 50/50 bet that he would stop it before she got more than four words out of her mouth.

He may be Bruce Wayne, but he's also Batman.

Still, she had spent several days on the road, re-examining her own mind and her own heart and she thought she had some answers about herself that not only made sense, they felt real to her. She had chosen to come right down here, seek him out, and dive head-long into things… to get everything out into the open for them both to see.

So, she started.

"Bruce," she said after a deep breath, her face hardening, "I think it's time for you and I to…"

"Hold that thought," he interrupted respectfully, but sternly.

She obliged, hoping he was simply going to take a moment to do whatever he needed to so they could finally level with one-another.

To her astonishment, he turned in his chair and swiftly typed countless commands into the computers.

"Whatever it is you have to say," he finally explained, "it's not me that you want to say it to."

In a dark and remote corner of the cave, an eerie glow swelled out of a large ring-like structure. It took Diana a moment to remember that it was the trans-dimensional portal that was so instrumental in their lives recently. After a few short seconds, the silvery waves of light fluttered and another Bruce Wayne emerged, dressed identically to the one sitting in front of her.

Her jaw dropped a little more and her confusion multiplied. She watched in amazement as that other Bruce walked down the ramp, across the cold cave floor and stopped directly next to his sitting counterpart. She knew him well enough to catch all the signs that told her that that his expressionless face was only so blank because he was holding back more emotion than he liked feeling.

"I want to apologize for deceiving you, Diana," the first Bruce said as this new Bruce kept his softened eyes on her, "but it was necessary. This is your Bruce Wayne… your Batman. Whatever you have to say, you want to say it to him."

She forced herself to tear her eyes off the new arrival and back to the Bruce in the chair. She couldn't help herself and her attention jumped back and forth and back again, not knowing which Bruce she was supposed to know.

Somehow, she found some logic and composure and she steeled herself for whatever answers she might receive for the mind-numbing questions boiling inside her.

"You… you're not my… you're not the Batman of this world?" she asked the one in the chair.

"No. He is."

"Did you lock him away like…"

"No," the new Bruce answered, "we traded places. It's a long story, so for now, let me just say that I needed his help and he obliged. I've been working in his world and he's been helping us here."

"Us? There's more of you?"

"No, no," the standing Bruce continued. "Us… as in, the Justice Lords. He's helping us all."

Her wide, blue eyes locked on to the sitting Bruce.

"It was you… you were the one that threw me out."

"Yes."

Her jaw tightened with suppressed anger at the thought of a stranger being so cold and heartless and allowing her to think it was her own Bruce the whole while. But then, just as quickly, she remembered…

"It was also you that told me to come home."

"Yes."

Her gaze fell back onto 'her' Bruce.

"And you knew that he…"

"No," he interrupted strongly. "I didn't know what he was going to do to you… to any of you. Not exactly. But I trusted him and I still trust him to help us get back to where we need to be."

"Us?" Diana asked.

"Yes… us. The Justice Lords."

She wasn't asking about the Justice Lords and she had a feeling that he knew it. She was asking about the 'us' of Bruce and Diana. In an instant, the Bruce in the chair became akin to a stranger in her eyes and she felt the discomfort and vulnerability of letting a complete outsider into her private thoughts.

"So now you can see why I stopped you a moment ago," sitting Bruce said. "Whatever you want to discuss, you'll have to discuss it with him."

She nodded as she looked away from him.

The two Bruces turned towards each other and talked more topically.

"There's nothing important going on in your world for the moment, so we're free to compare notes for a little while at least."

"Good. Before we do, I want to ask Diana about a few things about what happened here yesterday. So, were you able to bring it?"

"Yes," Bruce Wayne Alpha said and he produced Justice League Wonder Woman's golden lasso. He handed it to Bruce Wayne Beta and turned to Diana. "Nobody here knows that he and I have been doing this, and believe me, there are very good reasons for it. But I wanted you to be the first to know. In fact, for right now, I want you to be the **only** one that knows, so we're not going to bring John or Shay-"

Before he finished, Bruce Wayne Beta looped the lasso around his upper arms and torso, tightening the coils. Diana took an instinctive step forward, half-tempted to launch into battle.

"Wait," Bruce Beta told her, raising a hand, "this is a security precaution." Then turning his attention to his captive, "Do you still trust me?"

"Not anymore!"

"Fair enough. You'll thank me for this later. For now, take a seat."

Bruce Alpha sat down and was rewarded for his compliance by more lasso wrapping around his body, securing him to the chair. Diana watched on in even deeper astonishment, struggling with the urge to take action, but also with the feeling that there was a profoundly good reason why this was happening.

The visiting Bruce typed several more commands into the computer, then turned to address them both.

"Like I said before, whatever you want to say, you'll want to say to him. But before you do, and before you condemn me, I recommend you listen to this in its entirety. I'll be back when it's over so we can continue our turnover."

With that, he turned and marched across the cave and up the stairs towards the manor.

Diana was stunned and more than speechless. Her Bruce glared at her as if he couldn't figure out why she was hesitating to untie him. Diana took another step forward, completely intending to untie Bruce from the chair.

"We were in love," Bruce's voice rang out from the computer speakers.

She stopped dead in her tracks. His voice was so thick with emotion and privacy… She rarely heard him speak this way at all, and whenever she did, she knew that it was very, very important.

For his own part, unless Diana was going to untie him, Bruce had no choice but to listen as well. The memories of that night were indelibly planted in his mind. It wasn't long before he was reliving the scene along with the recording. It was a record of his private and intimate conversation with Justice League Wonder Woman…

XXXXX

BETA WORLD, That night…

"It started a few years ago," Batman Alpha admitted. "There was always an attraction, but one day we crossed that line…"

He paused, swallowing, his lips tightening.

"We were in the Batcave. We were sparring and things got… heated. She kissed me. From there, we grew closer and we started having sex. It didn't affect my patrolling. We were able to manage our relationship around our schedules."

"Stop, ok? Just stop," Wonder Woman Beta told him, her voice thick with frustration. "I know you're not this world's Batman, but clearly you're a lot like him. And if there's one thing about him that absolutely drives me mad it's the fact that he refuses to allow himself to be human. So, would you please just put Batman **away** for a minute and be yourself?"

He tried to fend her off with a critical stare. She wasn't fazed at all. If anything, her expression grew even more comfortable.

"Please?" she asked softly.

A thousand reasons why he should shut up and go away raced through his mind. But her voice… her eyes… he found it very, very hard to refuse her. Batman sighed and then left, leaving Bruce alone with her.

"I shouldn't have allowed it," he said shaking his head a little. "I wasn't strong enough and I gave into my lusts and my emotions… It never should have happened."

His lips tightened before he continued.

"I wasn't supposed to fall in love with her."

He saw her face brighten a little as he admitted that. Then she nodded in understanding and acceptance.

"But you did," she said. "And it sounds like she fell in love with you, too."

He couldn't answer.

"Didn't she?" she asked, although it sounded more like a statement.

He shrugged, shaking his head. Another sigh.

"She did," Diana declared confidently. "I'm sure she did."

The pause was hard. He couldn't bring himself to look at her… she looked too much like the woman he was once deeply and passionately in love with. Her gentle, knowing smile was a little too hard to take.

"Were you happy with her?" Diana asked suddenly.

It took him a little by surprise. He shot her a sharp look. Again, she wasn't fazed at all.

"Were you?" she challenged again.

And yet again, he couldn't keep looking at her. He had to resort to turning away from her before he said too much.

"Was she happy with you?"

His mouth opened once or twice as he tried to find something to say. Nothing ever came.

"Bruce, please. Tell me how it was. Tell me what happened."

Yet another sigh. His shaking head rolled back and his eyes clamped shut as he realized that he needed to face the truth.

"Yes," he finally admitted with conviction. "I was happy. WE were happy. It was the happiest time of my life. It was so perfect that it scared the shit out of me. I couldn't look at her without it taking my breath away. We spent hours making love and hours after that just holding each other. She would read to me and I would teach her things… it was like we **fed **off of each other. And I never got tired of being with her."

He pried up his cowl and rubbed his eyes.

She waited patiently, supportively while he got more of his thoughts together.

"Around her, the food tasted better… the days were brighter… the nights were sweeter. The punks and scum I was scraping off the streets… I was doing it for **her**. I was cleaning my city for **her** to enjoy. I wanted her to know what she meant to me, what I would do for her… what I would give… what I would give up."

"Did you ever tell her these things?"

He seriously had to think about that before he could answer.

"Sometimes you're a hard man to read, Bruce. I'm sure she saw your efforts, but did you ever tell her how much she meant to you?"

"I can't remember. I told her I loved her."

"It's not exactly the same is it?"

"No," he mumbled. "No, it isn't."

He took a deep breath before continuing.

"After… after Alfred died, I asked her to move in. Something had changed by then, and living together only magnified it. I was in 'damage control' mode by that point. Things were getting worse. It was an attempt to save whatever was left, but it… might have been a mistake. Things hit a downward spiral after that."

He paused, never looking at her but keeping his face angled down towards the gravel.

"What changed?" she asked.

"I really don't know. It might have begun with Flash's murder… maybe even before that… I can't tell for sure. Looking back now, it seems that things were cooling off a lot by that time, but the whole incident with Flash, then President Luthor… I never really had a relationship like that... I…"

He paused, his head shaking.

She caught it and something occurred to her.

"You think that was _your_ fault?"

He didn't answer and she didn't need him to. He almost looked at her, but instead he sighed and turned his attention back towards the ground. A few rough seconds later, his posture solidified and his face grew a frigid scowl.

"It doesn't matter," he said with Batman's voice. "It's over now. Relationships in our line of work are a bad idea. They never work out. Right now my top priority is to make sure that the Justice Lords get reformed. I only hope that _your_ Batman can succeed where I failed."

He used one last pause to reestablish the Bat within. He steeled himself and ended the conversation, standing up straighter, preparing to leave.

"Good night, Princess"

"Actually, I don't think we're done," she said clearly.

"We're done."

"Bruce, please. I need to understand. I have to know what happened with you two so I can… "

She cut herself off quickly and he paused and studied her face.

"I just, have to know," she finally resolved to say.

He made her wait a few seconds before answering.

"You're going to have to figure some things out for yourself, Princess."

"You're right. I know," she agreed. "And I plan on doing exactly that. But I still need you to tell me more. I have to know what happened between you and Diana… why aren't you together anymore?"

He had half a mind to cut her off and leave, but yet again, those incredible eyes swayed him.

"Bruce, please… Why did it change?"

He resumed his place leaning back against the black car.

"I don't know."

"Do you not feel for her what you once did?"

He found it hard to answer. He didn't want to answer. He couldn't understand why he was even talking to her or why he was saying the things he was saying. He knew he shouldn't say another word. He knew that Batman never, ever, ever showed anything even close to tenderness or emotions.

But around this woman… this goddess… this angel, he found it hard sometimes letting Batman breath. He wasn't afraid of anything anymore when she was near. And any dangers or warnings that his logic threw at his heart didn't hold. Around her… he was a little more free.

"I... I don't know!" he finally allowed himself to say. "She's… I can't even fathom what my life would be like without her. Even when she wasn't with me, I knew that she was out there and that we'd be together again soon. I have to make a real effort to remember what it felt like before she was in my world. I couldn't stand the thought of anything happening to her. Looking back now, I can see that somewhere along the line, I had stopped trying to make her happy and started trying to keep her from being sad."

He drew in a deep breath through his flaring nostrils as a scowl crept onto his face.

"I became… preoccupied… obsessed. I… never let her patrol with me. I… I couldn't risk anything happening to her. She went on missions and I couldn't even think straight until she checked in."

"Didn't you trust her?"

"Of **COURSE** I trusted her! Trust wasn't the problem. **She** wasn't the problem – **the rest of the world** was the problem. There was no way in hell I was going to let anything get to her… to let anything **happen** to her. One minute, she'd be walking down the street and the next, she'd be dying in a pool of her own perfect blood and I wouldn't be able to…"

Diana's face fell with profound realization.

"I shouldn't have done it," he said again. "I wasn't supposed to fall in love with her."

"But you did. And you can't change that. It happened. The real question now is; what's left of that love?"

"No! There's no question anymore," he declared, finding some strength and steel within. "You're right – I can't change it and I can't erase it, but I'd be a damn fool if I didn't learn from it."

"Learn what?"

"That love is for the weak. If you can't live without it, then you're crippled when it gets taken from you. Love is vulnerability."

"That's not true."

"It **IS** true! A man in love is a…"

"Bruce," she said calmly, warmly. "That's not true and you're never going to convince me that you really believe it."

"It doesn't matter. Even if love is good, it's not good for me. There's no room for it in my life. If I'm not 100% devoted to my mission, people die, Princess. Period."

"I see. You're a martyr, then, are you? You're sacrificing the hope of peace and love in your own life so that you can fulfill your mission.

"Yes!"

"Remind me again what exactly your mission is?"

"Don't be daft."

"I'm not," she replied calmly. Clearly his intimidating tone of voice wasn't affecting her at all. "I'm trying to make a point. Tell me what you believed in your heart when you first started wearing that mask."

"We're done. This conversation is over…"

"Bruce, please. Why did you start?"

For whatever reason, he allowed himself to humor her. Maybe if he kept it cold and factual he could end all of this a little more quickly and try to salvage some sense of dignity.

"I started because there are people out there that need protecting. There are people out there that need straightening out. There are criminals out there that have to be purged from the streets and there are innocent lives being threatened and nobody else on the planet can do a thing about it… except me."

"OK… so, to put a simple label on it, you're just trying to make the world… to make **Gotham** a better place for people."

"That's right," he practically barked.

"Bruce, that's called 'Hope'. If you didn't have hope, then there would be no point. You never do anything if there's no point, so you **must** have some hope. And I've got some news for you: all this devotion that you've been describing… to your city, to the world… to Diana… all your sacrifices are done not out of obsession, but out of Love. You love your city, Bruce. You love the people who live there. You love Diana. Can't you see it? Your whole life is FILLED with Love and Hope. Do those words sound familiar to you?"

He couldn't answer. Of course those words meant something to him. They meant **her.**

"But you did have an obsession, didn't you? But it wasn't a fault of your love, Bruce. It was borne out of fear – fear of **losing** that love… of losing the hope within you. What you've been through… that horrible moment in your young life… that moment ripped love out of your soul and for a time, you couldn't find the hope of ever recovering it. But eventually, you did. That mask you wear is nothing more than a tool that you use to reinforce your hope that your sacrifices will make this world BETTER. You've dedicated your life to make sure that people don't lose their love, that they don't lose their **hope.** You work in the dark and you use fear and you steel yourself with unfeeling words and cruel actions, but those are just tools."

He wanted to leave. She wasn't saying anything that he hadn't considered before. Part of him decided that any more of this conversation was clearly a waste of time. In fact, the whole thing should have never taken place at all. That part of him couldn't figure out why he even agreed to talk to her.

Unintentionally, she reminded him. Casually, she shifted her position and faced him more fully. Her manner became more familiar… more comfortable.

And the coldest parts of him cursed his own male biology and humanity because the grace and poise flowing out of her from such simple movements rooted his feet to the ground. He **liked** being around her. Every movement, every word, every gesture and expression… even the way she smelled… he couldn't get enough.

"On Themyscira," she began, "I have a sister that is the most gifted wood carver I have ever known. Her creations are worthy of the gods and everyone marvels at the beauty that graces any room that holds one of her pieces. But in order for her to create that kind of beauty, she has to incorporate some truly violent tools; she uses saws and axes and chisels and gouges… things that rip and demolish the unwanted parts of the wood until all that's left is the good. That's what Batman is. He is the saw, the axe, the chisel. He's nothing more than a tool to rid Gotham of the unwanted refuse to get down to the beauty within."

She paused and he glanced at her, waiting for more. **Hoping** there was more.

"But just like with the wood carver, there comes a time when the saws are no longer used and instead, knives and sanding stones are brought in to smooth out the rougher edges. When that time comes, the saw must be put away. That's fine for the wood carver to do, but if you asked the saw, it would probably protest its obsolescence."

She took a second before continuing. He borrowed that moment to consider the truth of her words.

"You've dedicated your life to being the saw, Bruce. Your hope was to carve Gotham into a work of art. Your ambition was driven by your love for your city and the idea that the art would truly be as beautiful as you hoped it would be. But when the time comes, can you put the saw away?"

He had asked himself that very question countless times before; could he put Batman away? She answered for him.

"I'm not so naïve as to think that the world will ever be truly purged of evil and wrongdoing. So, I'm not going to pretend that you ever should stop being Batman. But even if that did happen… even if the need for Batman was no longer there, I don't think that you'd be able to just turn him off. He's too much a part of you. I know that. I can see it when I look into my own Bruce's eyes and I'm sure it's just as true with you. I'll bet your Diana knows that about you, too. I'm sure she sees the warrior in you and she knows that disrupting your warrior's spirit is to change who you are. If she was in love with you, then… she fell in love with **all** that you are, not just part of you. She wouldn't want you to change."

She paused again, turning away slightly so she could lean back against the car more comfortably. Her eyes had a far off look and the introspection was clear on her face as she continued.

"But she's not in love with Batman. He's not even something that **can** be loved. What she loves about you is your dedication and your devotion. She loves your passion… the passion you employ when you drive yourself beyond limits trying to help those that can't help themselves. She loves your spirit, your creativity, your sense of duty."

"The gods gifted you with looks and talents… but many people have those characteristics. Those kinds of things just get people noticed. What's more important is what you **do** with those gifts and **why** you do it. If Diana's like me, she loves all of you, but mostly your spirit and the beauty within you.

"She knows that Batman is just a part of you, Bruce… an integral part, but still, just a part none-the-less. What you said a few moments ago; that you were trying to keep her from being sad more than trying to make her happy. I don't believe that's you. That's him. That's Batman. That's the eight-year-old boy inside you that's afraid because he hasn't learned that love doesn't always end with pain.

"As frustrating and new and intimidating as your relationship was for you, I'm sure it was even more so for her. Unless her history is drastically different from mine, you're her first Bruce. And I'm sure her mother raised her to believe that men were never to be trusted… that men were the enemy more often than not. For her to forsake centuries of training and beliefs, despite the wishes of her mother and the doctrines of her culture, and take you into her life and dedicate herself to you… Bruce, she must have been deeply, truly in love with you. She can't just turn that off."

"She loves you Bruce," Diana said as if she were discovering something. "She loves the way you look at her and the tenderness you can show in your private, secret moments. She loves the raw power and emotion that you use to drive yourself in battle. She loves your selflessness and your dedication to the people around you. She even loves your flaws and the way you go trudging off in a huff when Flash does something silly."

Her hands became a little animated as she spoke. Her head raised and her magnificent blue eyes twinkled a little as she gazed up towards the starry night sky while she went on.

"She loves the way you make her feel. The way her heart races and her breath is stolen from her lungs when she sees the corner of your mouth turn up with one of your arrogant little smirks. She loves the way you call her 'Princess' and how it's so much more than some title when you say it. She just loves you."

Her head and eyes glided down and her face fell with profound understanding.

"It's love," she admitted, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "It has to be. There's no other explanation for it."

"Is it love, Princess?"

"It has to be."

"That's not an answer, that's a diagnosis."

She didn't answer. He waited.

"Diana… is it love?"

She drew in a breath through her fine nose and nodded, her face dawning a private grin.

"Yes, Bruce. She loves you."

* * *

Author's Notes:

1) I know, I know… Bruce/Batman Alpha seems pretty OOC in that last part. Let me defend myself. We all know he's Batman. But this particular Batman has been through something that the REAL Batman hasn't. He's been in love – and he's lost it. He's only human, after all. To have lived within the arms of the most perfect woman in the world, to have enjoyed her affection and devotion, to have exposed his heart to her only to have been rewarded with even more love… I would have to think that there's a tenderness within this Batman that, while hidden more often than not, can find its way to the surface now and again. But typically, only around her.

Yes, I revisited that conversation for a second time. When I go back and re-read what I had written the first time, it looks like I didn't do a very good job. I had always planned on simply showing a small portion of that conversation at first, then showing it in its entirety later (like here). However, it doesn't look like it was clear in the earlier chapter that what I had produced was just a small portion. I'm sorry about that.

Of course, I hope you all saw the change in Diana Beta towards the end of the chapter… if not, then read it again and understand that, at some point, she stops talking about Bruce & Diana Alpha. It works in my mind when I proof it, but that's because I KNOW it's supposed to happen – I hope you got that vibe, too.

2) Easter Eggs: I mentioned in the previous chapter's Author's Notes that I occasionally hide 'Easter Eggs' here and there. So, I thought I'd point out a few of the ones I have to-date.

Chapter 6, paragraph 1. This one is a little obscure. I mentioned that Steve had visited his uncle in Alaska at Twin Lakes. This is in reference to a documentary called "Alone In the Wilderness" about a man named Dick Proenneke. Look it up if you like anything to do with camping, survival and that kind of thing.

Chapter 10, after Diana confesses to Steve. Steve ends a sentence with "it's not the years, darlin'… it's the mileage." That's a quote from Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Chapter 11, John finally figures out how to use his ring again and destroys the boulder that Sinestro is trying to crush Kat with. I said that he didn't feel a single "ounce of pain"… as if pain is measured by the ounce. OK, that's pretty flimsy, but I borrowed that from Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses. Yeah, I like that song, what of it?

Chapter 12, Arkham. The Ultra Humanite was referred to as 'prisoner 8675309'… as in 867-5309… as in the song. I'm surprised at how many people DIDN'T point that out – I was honestly expecting more.

(Do you know how hard it was to NOT have Deloris Winters say "Help me, Rhonda" in their fight with Batman and Hawkgirl?)

Chapter 16, Batman talking with the Watchtower. TK421 was the designation of a Storm Trooper in Star Wars IV – he wasn't at his post. DD214 is a military document, I believe, for an honorable discharge from service.

There may be a few more, but I can't remember. There's one in this chapter – I'll tell you later.

THANKS FOR READING!


	18. Chapter 18: Release

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of The Justice League or The Justice Lords or any of the settings that they live in or any of that. No monetary profit is gained from this fic. I also have no illusions about the plot either... just because I have an idea doesn't mean it belongs to me... right?

Litra helped me out on this one. If you like Justice League and Justice Lord stuff, I recommend her stories. She rocks and if she doesn't know it, somebody please remind her.

* * *

Eternal 18 - Release

Justice Lord's Alpha World – Wayne Manor, master study

Bruce Wayne Beta sat stoically in the custom leather chair behind the antique desk. His jaw was set in a natural scowl and although his eyes were aimed in the general direction of the towering windows, he didn't see the Manor grounds glowing in the midday sunshine. Instead, his mind was immersed in deep contemplation.

He should have been re-evaluating the progress (or lack there-of) of the Justice Lords.

He should have been redoubling his efforts to identify the mysterious young woman that had invaded his cave. Somehow, somewhere along the way, he heard Flash's voice in his mind refer to her as "Wondy Jr"… and much to his disgust, his mind latched on to it.

He even could have justified allowing his mind to contemplate the goings on in the cave at that very moment… to consider what was being exposed between his doppelganger and Ex-Lord Diana. After all, he had determined that an integral part of both of their recoveries would include finding some form of mutual peace with each other—even if that doesn't necessarily equate to rekindling their romance.

But his thoughts betrayed him. His mind didn't stay focused on what he knew it must. No, instead, his mind followed his stray heart back to the conversation between his own Diana and that other Bruce Wayne.

'_I don't have any right to think of her as _**my ****own** _Diana.'_

The fact that their conversation took place wasn't unexpected. Once it was known that she was aware of the two Bruces' plans, he considered the possibility that she would eventually approach one Bruce or the other, depending on who was in her world at the time. He had even predicted that she would want to talk about the other Diana. He just didn't give a lot of thought to the possibility that Ex-Lord Batman would actually open his heart like he did.

That was where things didn't exactly go as planned. That's where occurrences strayed from his expectations. As always, he had accounted for a degree of deviation. He simply hadn't expected revelations of that magnitude from that other Batman. More importantly, he never would have suspected that his own Diana would say all that she had. That's where his plans hit a wall and that's why his mind was derailing when he need it to stay on track.

'_Yes, Bruce. She loves you.'_

That's what she had said.

The melody of her voice was burned into his mind. The warmth behind her words was evident. She truly believed in what she said. Her honesty was unmistakable. And the hidden message was as undeniable as the clenching of his teeth as he recalled what she said… again, and again and again.

'…_She loves you.'_

The meaning of the words was clear. The purity of the confession was not in doubt. The literal meaning was unquestionable… but the degree of emotion was the variable that drew his analytical mind to try to pin down the intangible. Despite his efforts to stay focused on the monumental tasks at hand, his mind recalled that one line. His normally impeccable memory started to cloud the facts… to twist what he had heard into what she might have just as easily said-to actually become the hidden message...

'…_She loves you.'_

…

'… _I love you.'_

Bruce shut his eyes hard. It helped nothing to allow his thoughts to wander like this. Abruptly, he stood up and paced the room in frustration. The study doors were locked to keep John and Shayera out. He couldn't go down to the cave until he was sure that he had given those other two enough time to wrestle with what he had dropped on them. He was a caged tiger and he was restless.

He glanced at the clock. When he drew this plan up in his mind, he resolved a certain amount of time to allow them to come to terms. It hadn't been long enough, he considered.

'_Cut it out!'_ Batman's voice barked in his mind.

Obsession… always the constant companion and antagonist in his mind. Dwelling on the bleak. Latching on to the darkness. Pessimism was as natural to him as his cowl.

'_Get it out of your mind!'_

Batman's voice drilled through his brain, grounding him, guiding him… Fathering him.

He heard a sound echo down the hallway outside the locked study doors. For a fleeting second, he assumed it was Alfred preparing a meal in the kitchen, but of course it was John and Shayera.

'_Alfred…'_

If he were in his own world, Alfred would surely say something so simple yet so poignant that he would spend considerable time contemplating the dozens of levels of wisdom hidden within the words. His knowing smirk and kind eyes would remind Bruce that the world isn't always dark and a connection with another person doesn't equate to vulnerability.

He didn't realize how much he had missed his friend. His eyes drifted towards the windows again, focusing on the dancing pencil-thin shadows that the sunshine was casting through the leafless trees as they trembled in the wind. Winter was coming.

Bruce drew in a cleansing breath and refocused himself. Whatever was being discussed downstairs was beyond his control right now. Whatever his own Diana… no, not his own Diana… the Diana of his world was thinking, he could not help – nor would he need to address it at this time. Instead, he needed to allow his plans time to flourish.

He needed a break.

In fact, he needed to be Bruce Wayne for a few minutes. A smile might actually do him good.

* * *

Justice Lord's Alpha World – Batcave

The recording ended.

Bruce, still lashed to his chair with Justice League Wonder Woman's golden lasso, sat coldly in the silence, trying to force his face to show none of the emotions boiling within him. He wasn't doing a very good job.

A few feet away, in her leather and with her short hair, former Justice Lord Diana—now simply Diana—sat just as silently.

He wouldn't look at her but he could tell that she wasn't looking at him either. They stayed like that for countless moments. The odd peripheral sounds of the Batcave echoed softly from corners unknown.

Time crawled.

Somehow, Bruce Alpha found his voice, although its timbre was somewhat less than confident.

"Can you untie me now, please?" he managed very politely, his expression softening as he looked at her.

She didn't respond. Maybe she didn't hear.

"Diana?"

He saw her gleaming eyes drift up to find his face, but she looked as if she couldn't understand what he was saying.

"Can you untie me, please?" he repeated a little more forcefully.

As if coming out of a gentle spell, she shook her head slightly and stood up. She numbly walked over to where he was and reached for the lasso. Just before her fingers found it, she stopped, again looking off in deep contemplation.

He waited.

…

And waited.

…

"Diana?"

She returned to her seat and studied him with a rather pained look on her stunning face.

"What's going to happen?" she asked with a simple tone.

"What do you mean; 'What's going to happen?' You're going to untie me, that's what's going to happen."

"No," she responded plainly, his terse attitude clearly not affecting her, "After that. What's going to happen? I untie you, we try to talk about things but before anything meaningful can be established you change the subject or find something more important to do… or I avoid answering whatever questions you do manage to ask… and nothing is gained. Nothing is achieved. Nothing is fixed or corrected… and we continue floating through life as if neither one of us is crying out for a reason why we aren't in love anymore."

He tried glaring at her, but he couldn't hold it. Eventually, his eyes drifted down and away because he had to concede each of her points. Suddenly he was keenly aware of how tight the golden coils were around his body.

"What are we trying to do, Bruce?"

He couldn't answer.

"Is there any hope for us? Are we too afraid or insecure to admit defeat and allow ourselves to acknowledge that our relationship failed?"

"It didn't fail," he demanded.

"No?"

"No."

"Well if you call what we've been doing these past several months a 'successful relationship', I'd hate to see what you call a failed one."

"We haven't failed."

"How can you say that?"

"Because it's true. We haven't failed."

"Bruce! I can't accept that. There's no tenderness, there's no affection. We don't even sleep in the same bed most of the time. Where's the intimacy and trust? Where's the devotion?"

He didn't answer.

"You had said that somewhere along the line you stopped trying to make me happy… when? Why?"

"I don't know," he confessed.

"And now that I've heard what you said, I have to admit… I feel the same way. I once told you that I didn't know how much time we would have together, but I promised you that I would fight to make sure you were happy for every moment of it. Do you remember?"

"I remember."

"I haven't kept my promise, Bruce. I haven't been making you happy."

His scowl deepened. He wanted to tell her that it wasn't true but his mouth wouldn't open.

"Have I?" she pried.

He tried to deny it, but couldn't… because what he wanted to say would have been a lie.

"Have I?" she repeated.

"No," he said quietly.

She nodded.

"And I haven't been making you happy either," he added.

"No," she also confessed, "I haven't been happy, either."

They didn't look at each other. They didn't speak. The truth hung in the air thicker than the cave's dampness.

"So… where does that leave us?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"I've never broken up with someone before," she tried to jest, but it sounded more sad than humorous.

He drew in a heavy breath through his flaring nostrils. He turned his head, but not before the corner of his eye caught her wiping a tear off her cheek.

His mind churned and his heart wheeled in his chest. Logic and emotion warred within him as he tried to summarize what was truly being discussed and what it meant. His head declared that it was pointless to carry on the façade. It was a waste of time to try to salvage something that should have never existed in the first place. He wasn't supposed to fall in love with her and he wasn't supposed to find happiness. His cold, solid cynicism laid out all of the indisputable conclusions required. This relationship must end so his life could go on as it was supposed to.

His heart had only one argument with which to counter; He would lose Diana.

His heart won.

"I love you," he said as if it were shameful.

"What?"

"I said that I love you. I always have. I always will. I don't know what I did wrong. I don't know why I couldn't make you happy. I don't know why I made you feel like you did. And I hate not knowing things."

He still couldn't bring himself to look at her, but he caught her wiping another tear. She was facing him full on now as he spoke.

"I hate not being able to figure things out," he continued. "I hate illogical situations and I hate not being in control of every corner of my life. That's what our relationship was. It was illogical. It was unpredictable. It was blessed and wonderful and I couldn't explain why I was so happy with you in my life... because if I can't explain it, I hate it. I feel like I have to hate the fact that I love you..."

He swallowed hard. He had no idea why he was saying the things he was saying or why he was even talking… but whatever the reason, he couldn't stop and he couldn't hide and he didn't want to keep it all in any longer.

"I was scared," he said darkly, shaking his head.

"You were scared?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"Of me?"

"Yes… No… I don't know! I was scared of…"

…

"of losing you."

…

…

"Did you think… did you think that I would **leave** you?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes. No! I… I don't know! But I want you to! I want you to go because I wasn't supposed to love you. I want to get rid of you before any of the darkness in my life gets to you. I want you to leave because then I won't have to deal with all of the unknowns and mysteries that my love for you creates. I want you to walk out of here and forget about me so I don't have to be the one to do it and then have to live with the guilt of hurting you… But I can't lose you! I… I can't let you go."

He stole a glance at her and found her shimmering, blue eyes locked onto him. She was drawing heavy breaths through her quivering red lips. He had to look away because even with her features twisted with unbearably heavy emotions, she was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And again, his gut was awash with the undeniable notion that there was absolutely nothing about him or his existence that warranted any form of affection from her.

"I just can't," he confessed.

He clamped his eyes shut tightly and turned as far away as he could because there was one more thing he couldn't do: He couldn't let her see the tear in his eye.

He struggled to establish his logic over his shame. He drew in the deep breaths and he commanded his muscles to relax so he could gain some calm and composure. He set his jaw, closed his eyes and sat up straight. He didn't know how long he tried, but before he found enough peace…

Diana tore off her leather jacket and tossed it aside without a thought.

He didn't hear.

Nor did he hear her strong strides across the cold, hard floor. She dragged him back to reality when she spun the chair back around to face her. His mind was almost alert again when she wrenched the golden lasso off his body and threw it away. He almost found his voice before she grabbed him by the shirt with both fists and hoisted him to his feet.

And he had just enough time to take in a breath before she took his face in her fine hands, leaned into him and claimed his lips with reckless abandon and unbridled passion.

* * *

Justice Lord's Alpha World – Wayne Manor, master study

Yes, he needed a smile.

Bruce picked up the common, unsecured Wayne Manor telephone and dialed the number to a little flower shop in Portland. The chipper voice of the young lady answering the phone made him smirk.

"Suzanne's Flower Shop, this is Drew. How can I help you?"

"I'd like to place an order, please," he said smoothly with his heart-melting baritone playboy voice.

"No problem! Your name, sir?"

"Bruce Wayne," he said, his smile broadening, knowing what a bombshell like that would do to the poor girl at the other end.

"Bruce… _Wayne?_"

"That's right."

There was a pause before she continued. He almost chuckled.

"Are you serious?"

"Couldn't be more serious if I tried."

"Randy! If that's you-"

"Look up account 090635," he interrupted. "You'll see that I am, in deed, Bruce Wayne. You can also charge my order to that account."

He heard some keyboard clacking from the other end, a small pause, then a poorly hidden 'whoa' muttered from the flabbergasted young lady.

"Mr… Mr. Wayne! I'm sorry, I didn't know you were-"

"It's OK, Drew. Happens all the time."

"OK… um… well… I guess I should take your order then! Uh… will that be for pickup or delivery?"

"Delivery."

"OK… and your order?"

"Actually, I have two; the first is an order for a dozen long-stem red roses. The other: a mix of three dozen long-stem white and red roses and the two-pound box of Shenandoah Chocolates that you guys are famous for."

"Wow! That's quite an order! And where would you like those delivered?"

"Well, can you fill out a couple of cards for me before I…?"

"Oh! Of course! I'm sorry… what would you like to say?"

"For the first order, write down; 'Thank you for all your help and hard work,' and sign it 'From Bruce Wayne.'"

"Got it! And the other?"

"For that one, have it say; 'Thank you for believing in me. I appreciate all that you've done and I hope we can work together again very, very soon.' Sign it; 'Love, Bruce'."

"… oooookaaayyy. And who are the lucky ladies getting these beautiful flowers?"

"Send them both to 1135 Southeast Lovejoy Street, Portland, OR. Address the first order to Drew and the second to Suzanne."

"One, one… _THREE FIVE?_ That's _here!_ … and I'M Drew!"

"You're right! Should make that deliver-in-thirty-minutes-or-less guarantee pretty easy this time, eh?"

"Yes, but Mr. Wayne…"

"No 'buts', Drew. Help yourself to a dozen roses on me and make sure Suzanne gets my note! Take care!"

He hung the phone up, smiling. Sometimes he liked being Bruce Wayne.

* * *

Justice League Beta World – Watchtower, Diana's personal quarters.

The lights were off, but her room was softly glowing because of the shine from the iridescent blue Pacific Ocean far below. Oftentimes she found herself staring for hours at a stretch, marveling at the beauty of the Earth, or contemplating deeply at the vastness and unbounded and unending reaches of the void of space.

But not now.

"What's the matter with me?" Diana asked out loud, even though she was alone.

Her eyes looked, but she didn't see. No, her mind was dwelling on Bruce.

Both of them, actually.

Her mother had warned her about men. She had told her that they weren't to be trusted, nor were she to allow them to know her inner-most thoughts and feelings. She had said that even if a man proves to be honorable and trustworthy, Diana should still not keep her distance, because the moment they don't get what they want, men change. Somehow, at the end of it all, they always have an ultimate goal of making a woman their property.

The men of the Justice League had forced Diana to question those notions. Even Flash. They were strong-willed, yes, but they were also righteous and steadfast. They were loyal and honorable. Yes, they were flawed, but no more than she was. She found herself wondering if her mother had been too judgmental or strict in her convictions.

What her mother never warned her about, however, was how men might make Diana feel. Maybe she did and Diana simply hadn't listened, she really wasn't sure. All she could remember when she thought about the Lessons of Man that she had been raised to believe was that men were, basically, vile. Maybe somewhere along the way, Diana had convinced herself that if men truly were what she was warned about, there would be no way she would ever feel anything tender for any of them.

But now she had just come to the realization that she may, in fact, be in love with one of them. As if that weren't frightening enough she also had confirmed that, in another universe, a woman just like her had also fallen in love with another version of 'her' Batman.

'_He's NOT__** mine**__…'_ she had to reminder herself.

She had kissed 'her' Batman once when he tried to save her life. It was simple and platonic… mostly platonic… and it was on the cheek. Looking back, she wasn't even sure what made her do it, but she couldn't deny the little spark of excitement she sometimes got when she remembered how uncomfortable it clearly made him feel. He had always been so stoic, so cold… cruelly and inhumanly so at times. Yet, he had tried desperately to save her from a fate that any other mortal would have instantly fled from, and that had opened her eyes and her heart to the fact that there truly was something warm within him, no matter how elusive that warmth may be.

That moment was surreal. She wrestled her way out of danger and saw his mud-caked gloves; a clear sign that he had been clawing at the very earth to save her, even though the others had not. It was him, not them… even though any one of them would have been far more capable to not only help her, but also at far less peril to their own safety. No, Batman had taken on the fates by himself and then tried to deny that he had any such nobility to his name. It made her see him with fresh eyes.

She saw the mud and dirt on his gloves. He hid them. She kissed him. He scowled. She smiled.

Was it platonic and friendly, or was that the first seed of romance planted within her? Was it the first chink in his armor that she found? Whatever it was, she couldn't deny that she felt a secret thrill that she loved to tempt herself with. Any time she could, she would try to make him react that way again. Surely it wasn't counter to what her mother and sisters had taught her, it was just harmless fun.

And in a fun way, with Batman, she was the hunter. She stalked, he evaded. She set the traps, he escaped them… mostly. It was ironic, really. The controlling, dominating presence of Batman was not the driving force. The more he eluded her, the more she enjoyed the challenge. She would touch him unnecessarily. She made clever quips at his expense. She didn't know it at the time, but she was teasing him. Shayera even tried to tell her that she was _flirting_ with him.

Looking at it now, was she really the hunter? Was she actually the one that fell into the trap? To _flirt_ with a man… that couldn't easily be called harmless fun. Did he bait her into this deviance?

Diana loved to dance. She loved the act as a form of self-expression and celebration. Shayera had told her that, to men, sometimes dancing was part of a courtship. Whatever.

That dance in Paris with Bruce Wayne… that wasn't self-expression. That wasn't celebration. And it didn't take long for her to realize that, for him at least, it wasn't platonic. What did confound her mind was how she felt about it. Was it crossing a line to allow his body to touch hers in that way? Was it dangerous to lose herself in his eyes like that? That night, before too long, the other more corporeal forms of danger took her out of that trance, and in a shameful way, she was thankful for it. While she was enveloped in his arms, she didn't realize what she was doing… what she was allowing to happen. Had her mother seen that, she would have been very disappointed (after she had rendered Mr. Wayne's head from his shoulders).

In Paris, for a few moments at least, _she_ was the prey. Bruce Wayne and all his charm was the bait and she perched dangerously at the edge of his trap. She knew of his reputation, but at the time, for those few brief seconds swaying to the music, there was little doubt in her heart that his warmth was genuine.

Realizing that he was actually Batman in disguise made many things 'click' for her in many ways. It opened her eyes to the fact that there really was a person under all that blackness. Before that, it was hard to remember that he wasn't inhuman. He was shark-like in his purity and with his defenses. To make him balk was remarkable simply because his nature went against allowing it. But to fully understand that, behind the cowl and the soulless white eye lenses, Batman was as human as any other person, it drove home the concept that his heart was real, too. It wasn't a one-dimensional being she was dealing with… he had hidden that fact so well.

It was slow. Her evolution wasn't something she had recognized easily. Sitting in her quiet room, trying to rationalize what she had foolishly said to that other Batman, she was struggling with the concept. She forced herself to look at her life and her recent choices with the eyes she used to have. From the point of view of a previous Diana who had never left Themyscira, her dealings with Batman were shameful… dangerous. Had she learned nothing from the history of her people? Had her mother's lessons ever truly taken root? Did the wisdom that her sisters had only acquired through pain and suffering gone to waste with her? What was she doing?

That other Diana had fallen in love. That other Batman had allowed their romance to live and flourish. For a while, at least, they had found happiness in each other's arms and that fact made her quiver with the thought. To consider that she, too, may someday find love and tenderness was overwhelmingly exciting. To consider that it may actually be with the enigmatic man she loved to torment was so much more than icing on the cake. While she tried to help that other Batman through his own demons, she could tell now that her optimism for his reconciliation with Justice Lord Diana was driven by her desire for her own relationship. She wanted them to be happy together because that would mean that she and her own Batman could be happy together as well.

'_Stop it! Stop thinking that! He's not MINE!'_

She was so confused.

Or rather, she had confused herself because she tried to sort out with her mind the longings of her heart. The brain can't find logic in the chaos that the heart provides and her heart had taken her down a path that her mind would have never chosen had she allowed it to.

Or maybe it wasn't her heart… or not _just_ her heart.

Was it her heart or was there something else? Was it Aphrodite or Cupid at play here? Was it her emotions and soul longing for a companion or was it her body and desires longing for attention? Could it be both? She was never taught how to deal with either, but if she could figure out which one, maybe she could find a defense against…

'_There is no defense. The best way to stay safe in battle is to stay safe FROM battle. The only way to be completely safe is to stay out of it altogether; mind, body and soul!'_

She had to stay out of the traps.

Her mother had been right. Men were dangerous… Look but don't touch. Touch, but don't taste. Taste, but don't consume… it's always a little more, then a little more… not all at once, but a spoonful at a time. Their sweet coaxing was just another way to trap a woman into being a possession.

Diana sighed.

She couldn't undo what had been done. She couldn't take back what she said to that other Batman. At least she could maintain some dignity knowing that she hadn't confessed the most dangerous possibility. She never actually said "I love him."

'_You might as well have, though!'_

It doesn't matter. Even if she had, she has the power and the right to change her mind. The fates may have a plan, but she has the ability to choose her own path as well. Those two Batmen may talk. The one may tell the other what was said – if he hasn't already. She may even get confronted with her own words.

She'll be prepared.

'_I am Diana, Princess of the Amazons. No man dictates my life to me. No man… no ONE owns me!'_

She drew a fresh breath, stuck out her jaw, nodded and stood up. Scowling, she grabbed the sword off her wall and headed for the training arena.

The training drones didn't stand a chance.

* * *

**AN: Hello! Yes this entire chapter was BMWW... if you're a fan of them, I hope you liked it. If not, please be patient - the others are alive and well and more about them is coming soon!**


	19. Chapter 19: Turns in the Road

**AN: See? I told you it wouldn't be 8 months for the next update! This chapter is un-beta'd so I simply ask for an extra measure of forgiveness if something's not right. I just want to get this out before I find another reason to procrastinate!**

**As always, I do not own the Justice League or the Justice Lords, etc. No profit is gained from this fiction.**

* * *

Eternal 19 – Turns in the Road

Justice Lord's Alpha world – Batcave

"Bruuuuce… Say it, Bruce."

…

"You promised me you would."

Former Justice Lord Bruce Wayne drew a deep breath through his flaring nostrils. By saying what Diana wanted him to say, it would be tantamount to admitting he had been wrong.

He hates being wrong.

His lips were tight over his tensing jaw. His eyes were cast somewhat downward, but he stole a glance at her beautiful face to see if there was any hope of working his way out of this one. Her crossed arms, that sexy smirk and that perfectly-shaped, expectantly-cocked eyebrow over her left eye outlined his fate clearly enough; he had to do it.

He huffed out a sigh, straightened up and mustered enough strength to swallow his own pride with at least a little dignity.

"You were right," he told Bruce Wayne Beta, who was actually enjoying this… for several reasons. "We needed to hear what you had recorded… what… _**I**_ had said… And…"

Diana and the other Bruce stood like stern and bemused parents, watching a wayward son apologize for something fairly trivial but thoroughly embarrassing.

"And?" Diana coaxed.

…

"Thank you," he finished before he glanced into his counterpart's eyes. The two men instantly read and understood each other. One knew exactly how hard it was for the other to say what had been said. The other knew that he wasn't being judged or condemned for actually showing a glimpse of weakness and maybe even feeling gratitude and a certain amount of relief.

As for his own part, the Bruce Wayne from the Justice League world couldn't help but feel slightly full of himself at the moment. It wasn't every day that one manages to out-do a Batman… even another Batman.

The smirks and the scowl slowly faded as the three stood awkwardly in the cave contemplating what was next on the agenda. It didn't take long for Ex-Lord Batman to push things along, if not for the sake of comparing notes and establishing a complete turnover, then to at least relieve himself of the gnawing embarrassment lingering in his gut.

"Now we have to discuss what _hasn't_ been going right around here," he said with just a touch of accusation.

"Yes," Diana added. "You had said that you needed to ask me something about what happened here yesterday? How could I know anything if I wasn't…"

"Let me show you," League Bruce interrupted, taking the main seat at the massive computers and calling up the security footage of the cave.

The three watched in silence as the playback rolled, showing the goings on of the 'intruder' that so strongly resembled the old Wonder Woman. League Bruce made some comments on the situation as well as some of his observations that weren't readily obvious from the footage. When all was said and done, the two Bruces turned expectantly to Diana.

"Well?" one of them asked her.

Her pretty face was stuck in a rather foggy expression. The two men watched as she slowly lowered herself into one of the near-by chairs, her face showing how deeply she was contemplating the situation. As if she had discovered something, she blurted out her first question.

"Could she be another Diana from some other dimension?"

"Unlikely," League Bruce answered. "You saw on the footage that she had flown into the cave from the vehicle entrance – so if she did come from another dimension, it wasn't through our portal. Unless somebody has devised a way – in this world or some other – to teleport between dimensions with vastly different properties of physics, our sensors would have detected it. Nothing was found."

Diana's face dropped.

"Not only that," the other Bruce added, "but for the most part, everyone who still exists in both dimensions seems to be the same age as their counterpart. We may die at different times, but we're all born on the same date. This woman was clearly younger than you."

Her face dropped a little more.

"I just… I just don't _understand!_" Diana said, head shaking in confusion. "Who _IS_ that girl?"

There were so many questions running through her mind about a whole myriad of possible answers. Could it be cloning? Could her mother have crafted another child? Was sorcery involved? None of the answers Diana pondered made her feel any better as the moments ticked on.

For her own Bruce, the answers were coming just as quickly, if not more-so. And for him, the answers were almost as disturbing – not just because they posed immediate threats or dangers outright, but because he instantly knew that each solution his incredible mind deduced meant one form of pain or another for his Diana. That didn't sit well with him at all – so he kept quiet.

"It doesn't matter," Bruce Wayne Beta declared, somewhat to the surprise of the other two. "We can speculate on who she is and how she got here later. What we need to figure out now is who is she working for and what kind of sorcery are they using?"

"Sorcery?" Diana asked as her mind climbed back into the moment.

"Yes."

"How do you know it was sorcery?" Bruce Alpha asked.

"Because Zatanna is helping them."

"What?!" Diana asked with legitimate surprise.

"Zatanna is helping them."

"You know this how?" Bruce Alpha demanded with a Batman voice.

Turning back to the computers and calling up new sets of video surveillance footage, combined with sensor readings from several new devices he had modified or developed, Bruce Wayne Beta laid out his case.

"You both know the basics of how the Watchtower teleporters operate. There is _no way in the physical universe_ to use technology to teleport an object without leaving _some_ form of energy signature or residual traces. Whatever was used to transport our visitor away was NOT technology."

"The only other alternative is magic," Bruce Wayne Alpha observed.

"That's right."

"But you had Zatanna scan the area," Diana said. "She said that there was no trace of any kind of magic in the cave at all."

"She lied."

"Where's your proof?" Ex-Lord Batman demanded in a not-so-Ex Lord tone.

"Because if she had actually scanned the area for all magic, she would have found this," Bruce Beta answered as he commanded the keyboard to bring up a picture of the necklace that Zatanna had made to hide Shayera's wings. Diana recognized it instantly.

"I had this sitting in the armory," he continued, "in an open drawer."

"Maybe she did detect that, but knew it to be of no consequence," Bruce Alpha said.

"Maybe. But she also didn't detect this," Bruce Beta countered, pulling a small pendant out of his pocket.

It was something that Justice Lord Batman had carried with him since the day he bought it for an exorbitant amount. Much to his own shame, it was a magical device that he had used on his own lover when they had fought in the Nevada desert a small eternity ago. This device was fashioned to overcome the magic of Diana's lasso. In short, it was to Diana what Kryptonite was to Superman…

"There were two magical devices in the cave as well as Shayera's mace, which affects magical fields. It was sitting at the far end of the training arena. Zatanna said that she had detected nothing at all in the cave, even though I had made it clear that I needed to know about all magical devices, no matter how trivial. Whatever spell Zatanna had used the other day, it wasn't one to detect magical items or fields. She would have known about these things and said something."

"Your evidence isn't very strong," Bruce Alpha declared, once again using Batman's voice.

"No, it isn't, but it's evidence none-the-less. Zatanna is most likely working with this woman and odds are there's at least one more person working with them as well."

Once again, calling up evidence on the computers, Bruce Wayne Beta showed the footage of the mysterious man in black that had shown up at Deloris Winters' clinic the other day. With more accurate analysis of the video stream, the Batcave computers were able to extrapolate many facts and statistics about the entire situation:

The man was approximately six foot, two inches tall. At his fastest speed, he had been running at just over forty-three and a half miles per hour. His clothing didn't reveal anything and the analysis of his build suggested that he had tremendous upper-body strength.

"And here's the important part," League Bruce added.

Typing up more commands, a new video feed was brought to the screen. Unlike the high-tech security footage from the clinic, this was much lower grade, but it showed a view of the street where the clinic was located.

"This is from a traffic camera three blocks away from the scene," he explained.

The three watched as the Batmobile drove through the intersection and down the street, pulling into the clinic parking lot. A few moments later, the exact same burst of teleportation energy flashed onto the screen some hundred yards further down the street. No sooner did the burst dissipate than the mysterious black character start his superhuman sprint towards the clinic, only to reappear from the clinic and disappear once again through the same burst of energy.

"The traffic camera isn't very sophisticated, but even if it were, the teleportation happened too far away to see anything useful other than the fact that it happened. Clearly this person is jumping in and out of places using the same magic as our visitor."

"That makes sense," Diana offered.

"No, it doesn't," Ex-Lord Bruce countered. "Why would somebody send one person to help you there, then only a few moments later send another person attack you here?"

"I don't think the second person was sent," the other Bruce responded. "Remember what she was whispering as she was tied up. Clearly she was going against orders."

"That other… _woman_ didn't teleport directly into the cave," Diana pointed out, "so perhaps she was breaking whatever protocol they observe, but when she was found out, Zatanna used her magic to pull her back."

"That's my conclusion as well," Bruce Beta said. "There are at least three people working together that the Justice Lords didn't know about. Whether they're a threat or not is still in question."

"No, there's no question," Bruce Alpha declared. "If there are mages and metas working together without the Lords' knowledge, they're a threat."

"I agree," Diana added.

Justice League Bruce glared at them both. He drew in a huge breath through his flaring nostrils and reigned in his temper before confronting them both with cold, hard words.

"You aren't the Justice Lords anymore," he said slowly, strongly. "Be careful how you handle this. These people may be the answer to your problems."

"And they may be the _source_ of our problems!" Bruce Alpha said sharply. "You can't tell me that you hadn't considered that these people are the ones coordinating the attack."

"An attack that you _assumed _was coming. The only thing we've decoded from that original message was that somebody was sharing information about the Justice Lords being stripped of their powers. If they knew this and their intention was to destroy you, why would they have helped out at the clinic?"

Ex-Lord Bruce had no answer.

Diana, however, did have something to say to her colleague.

"He has a point, Bruce. Maybe they've been keeping an eye out for us because they know we're vulnerable now. It's not unlike what he did," she said pointing to Bruce Beta, "to help me out at that gas station the other day…"

"What gas station?" Bruce Beta asked.

"The convenience store at the gas station where the robbery happened," she explained. "I know that you came in when that one suspect had the shotgun and…"

She stopped herself dead in mid-sentence.

"That wasn't you, was it?" she asked carefully.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Her hand clamped over her forehead as she pondered what his response implied. The two Bruces watched her, waiting for her to say something that made sense.

"It… it wasn't you," Diana said as if it were impossible. "I had always thought it was you watching over me, but… it wasn't you!"

"Diana, what are you talking about?"

She excused herself as she all but forced her way to the command seat of the computers. It took her a little longer than she wanted to, but she eventually found a map that showed the small town where she had been staying when she was out on her own. Panning in and scanning, she found the name and address for the gas station/convenience store where she encountered the robbers.

"This is the town where I was staying," she explained as she navigated. "The night before I called here… before you told me to come home, I helped apprehend three robbers at this gas station. During the fight, somebody covertly ambushed one of the suspects who had a shotgun. If he hadn't, I very easily could have been shot or even killed!"

Bruce Wayne Alpha immediately took command. He virtually shoved the other two out of his way, pummeled the keyboard and instantly, information about the gas station, owners, employees and financial activity popped up on all the various monitors. Automatically, at impressive speed, he found police reports and newspaper articles about the robbery in question. Moments later showed vital statistics about the suspects, their identifications and records, the charges brought against them, etc. A few moments after that, he had video surveillance footage of the night in question taken from the gas station's own cameras. Before he allowed the feed to play, however, he performed one more search for any other camera activity in the area to provide coverage of the peripheral areas, but there weren't any to be found… what the gas station systems provided would have to do.

The three watched the scene unfold. Diana was finally afforded a view of what had transpired before she burst onto the scene. When the excitement finally ensued, she was able to evaluate her own performance with a more critical eye. Until then, she hadn't given it much thought.

They all watched as she impressively took out one suspect only to find herself on the floor with a shotgun aimed at her head. The split second before she rolled away and dove for cover, the Samaritan in question blasted in through the doors and used a clothesline-leg sweep combination from behind to incapacitate the gunman. It very easily could have been the same person that was at the clinic.

"I thought it was you," Diana said when it was over, still looking at the screen. "I mean, how many people could have done that and then disappeared into thin air? When I went outside and didn't see anything, I assumed that you had teleported in and away again…"

Before she knew what was going on, Bruce Alpha launched out of his chair and blasted Bruce Beta with a devastating right cross, sending him sprawling across the cave floor. Diana jumped to her feet, somewhat shocked at the suddenness and violence of the attack.

"You sent her out there," Lord Bruce shouted, "without any protection, without any backup! She could have been killed!"

"Bruce! Stop it!" she tried, grabbing his arm.

"No, Diana! I won't stop it!" he shot back, ripping his arm out of her grasp. "This son-of-a-bitch… I trusted you! Where the hell were you while she was staring down the barrel of a shotgun?"

For his own part the visiting Bruce didn't respond. In fact, other than wipe the back of his hand across his mouth to check for blood, he lay still on the floor, staring coldly back at his accuser. It afforded him time to consider the best way to clear his name in his counterpart's eyes. It also gave him a front-row seat to the argument brewing before him…

"Bruce, please!" Diana pleaded, "He didn't know!"

"He SHOULD have known! He threw you out without any protection or any way to get back. What if somebody out there recognized you? Without your powers…"

"What? I'm helpless? Is that what it is? Without my powers I can't take care of myself?"

"No… Diana, that's not what I'm saying. What I meant was…"

"It's perfectly clear what you mean, Bruce. You said it yourself not ten minutes ago and you said it on that recording. You can't lose me and you're afraid that the entire world itself is a threat."

"I never said you couldn't take care of yourself…"

"You don't have to, Bruce. It's clear that you feel that way no matter what you say. But you're missing the point! You might be angry at him for what he did, but what's really bothering you is; that something might happen to me and you won't be able to stop it. It doesn't matter if I have powers or not. I'm not one to sit by idly and allow bad things to happen if I have a chance to stop it."

Still lying on the cold, hard floor, League Bruce allowed half a smile. She was finally going to say what needed to be said to Justice Lord Batman.

"I'm the one that chose to go into that gas station, Bruce. It was MY call, not HIS. I'd do it again if I had to… you KNOW this about me. It's not something that you can change. It's not even something that I WANT to change about myself. _It's who I am!_ Whether I'm Wonder Woman or just Diana, I'm going to fight whatever fight needs to be fought and I'll put my life on the line if I think the cause is just."

Ex-Lord Bruce, while still seething, let his eyes drift down, effectively conceding her truth.

"The only way you're going to keep me from doing that is to _lock me up_, Bruce. And I know that you don't want to do that, so that means…"

She stopped dead once again, her face melting from aggravated into sudden realization.

"Oh, Hera!" she sighed dropping onto her chair limply. "That's what it was all about isn't it? Locking things up and controlling everything else… That's why we became what we became!"

* * *

Justice League World – Batcave five minutes later

The trans-dimensional portal sealed behind him with a rush of white noise and a flash. Bruce wandered over to the chair in front of his own computer console and loosed a well-earned sigh of relief as he plopped down into it. Had he really been away from his own world that long?

He and his Doppelganger quickly agreed that turn-over or not, it was time for him to get back to his own world. That other Diana had a lot to talk to that other Bruce about. They had a lot to figure out for themselves, then after all that, they had to figure out how to relate it all to the rest of their colleagues.

On the whole, progress was being made and for the next step, if things went as expected here, he'd be back in the morning for a little social experiment; something that might be of significance for Lord Superman.

Alfred came down the stairs.

"Good afternoon, sir," he said rather stiffly.

"Hello Alfred. You can lighten up a little, it's me again."

The ever-diligent gentleman allowed a small sigh of relief as his shoulders relaxed. He still kept his formal attitude, of course.

"Very well, sir. I trust your endeavors were fruitful."

"So far, yes. For the most part…"

"Excellent."

The two exchanged a knowing look, each understanding that even though the magnitude of Bruce's 'endeavors' was virtually unfathomable, it would be logically pointless to discuss them at the moment. After all, a job worth doing is a job worth doing well.

"There is a director's meeting at Wayne Enterprises in two hours. Something about the release of the new ceramic line of engine blocks for the Charleston division of the small engine…"

"Two hours…" Bruce mumbled in acknowledgement as he turned his attention to his computer consoles. A recent news reports had caught his attention.

"Yes, sir. Should I have your… _daytime_ business attire prepared?"

"Yes," Bruce answered somewhat absent-mindedly. He was concentrating on a story from the Metropolis Examiner… a small-time rag of a publication that spent more time reporting Sasquatch sightings than stock reports.

"Very well, sir. I will have your lunch ready for you shortly."

"Thanks," Bruce said almost as an afterthought, his eyes scanning the article about flashes of light and 'thunder-like' sounds coming from Metropolis' warehouse district.

Alfred turned sharply and marched dutifully towards the stairs. He made it only a few steps up before his charge called out in a rather honest voice.

"Alfred?" Bruce called, his attention refocused back on his friend.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm glad you… " Bruce started with some difficulty.

Alfred waited.

"Thank you, Alfred. For… well… Thanks."

The older man smiled. He knew exactly what Bruce was saying.

"It is my pleasure, Master Bruce," he said with love and sincerity.

And with that, the proper Englishman turned and climbed back up to his world.

* * *

Justice Lords' World

John Stewart took a deep breath and let it out in with a solemn sigh. Bruce and Diana had come up to the Manor and told Shayera and him that a significant discussion about the Justice Lords was due. Before that happened, he had one little chore to take care of…

Standing in the Batcave training arena behind J'onn's cell, he opened the compact airlock door, set down the tray of (what Shayera called) food and sealed it shut again. A few button presses, some mechanical clanking and a hissing sound later, he knew that J'onn had his lunch.

'_Just like feeding time at the zoo,'_ the Green Lantern thought.

Shayera had told him that it had become routine. 'Deposit' the food in the airlock and transfer it into the cell, then proceed directly to the Batcave computer monitors. J'onn likes company when he eats. At least he did for a while.

Shayera had also told him that, lately, it seemed that the only time J'onn wanted to talk to anybody any more was during meals. Other than that, the huge, gentle alien simply sat stoically in the middle of his cell, motionless. They tried to provide him with various forms of entertainment, such as music, and at first he seemed to appreciate it. They tried to teach him braille and supply him with various books and he learned it very quickly. They tried to include him in discussions, both official and personal, and he was as polite, precise and interactive as they had expected... but not anymore.

For the past few days, J'onn J'onnz had been even more reclusive than normal—something that John Stewart would have guessed wasn't possible, had she not told him. The Martian had stopped participating in any conversations and had even requested to be excused from them altogether. He left the braille books piled neatly in the corner of his cell. He asked for the music to be turned down, and then eventually, off. And at breakfast this morning, he hardly said a word to Shayera as he pushed the gray and yellow slop around his plate, barely eating anything.

It worried them all to a degree, but to John Stewart, it was alarming.

John had seen this kind of downward spiral before. It was right after he had been promoted to Corporal and was awaiting his new duty assignment in the US Marines. He had been temporarily attached to a medical unit and the in-flux of wounded was low, but steady. On rare occasions, when a leg or arm or eye couldn't be saved, a special counselor was assigned to keep watch over the Marine, not only to help them learn to physically deal with their new lifestyle, but also to deal with the overwhelming onset of depression and despondence.

Before he had seen it first-hand John never believed that the loss of a limb or some other such body part could be so impacting. To a young man, an amputated hand was something that a Marine should overcome by adaptation and improvisation. The mechanics of it was simple, really. What they never discussed or trained for at that time was the emotional devastation that cannot be predicted, nor reasoned away. There was no logic to it and oftentimes there was no warning. The emotions of a human being simply could not be calculated.

It didn't matter how tough or mentally stout a Marine was. The nose-dive into a bleak and hopeless state was unpredictable and, in many cases, devastating. And far too often, it led to self-destructive thoughts and tendencies.

So when the steady and stalwart Martian Manhunter started showing these all-to-familiar signs, John realized that something very crucial may be at play. He hoped he was wrong and he waited to voice his ever-growing concerns to the others… he hoped J'onn would 'snap out of it'. But to expect that wasn't fair, nor was it realistic.

John's hesitation was also due, in part, to a lack of understanding of the situation. How does one deal with the slipping mental state of a Martian? How closely is the internal turmoil of a human amputee associated with that of the last alien of his species with his mental telepathy stripped away? What Shayera had described to him seemed to begin only a few days ago… was it too early to tell if this was cause for alarm? He didn't know.

He made his way to the computers, typed up the appropriate commands and the inside of J'onn's cell popped up on one of the bigger monitors. His friend had already moved from his preferred spot on the floor to the back of the cell and he was carefully feeling for the plate and utensils on the tray. John flipped on the microphone and spoke slowly, enunciating clearly as if talking to a small child.

"Hello, J'onn. I hope you like your lunch. We tried a new recipe from you journal today; Bacta Stew."

"Thank you, John," the huge green Martian said politely, but with very little emotion.

The two remained silent as one ate and the other watched.

To John, the continuing silence was a bad sign. He fought hard to come up with something to say, but he knew that anything trivial would garner very little response and wouldn't lead to any kind of lasting conversation. He also was careful not to say anything too significant as he couldn't accurately predict J'onn's ability to deal with anything too 'heavy'. Finally, he decided to just come right out and call it like he saw it.

"You've been pretty quiet lately, J'onn. Anything on your mind?"

The Martian took a moment to swallow what he had been chewing before he answered.

"Yes."

John waited for more, but as the seconds ticked by, it didn't look like anything more was coming.

"Anything you'd like to talk about?"

J'onn slowly lowered his head, blinked his sightless eyes a few times and took a deep breath before answering.

"I'm afraid it's over, Lantern."

"What is?"

The Martian neatly and carefully put down his tray of food before answering.

"My species. The last of Mars dies with me."

The weight of those words hit John like a truck. His sharp mind caught the tell-tale signs of despair and despondency. He quickly realized that what he had feared may actually be coming to fruition… although he still hoped he was wrong.

"That's not necessarily true, J'onn. We've always thought that…"

"Lantern," J'onn interrupted, "I am the last. There are no others. It was incumbent upon me to preserve the chronicles of my culture – even if there was no way to preserve my race. However, now I have come to the conclusion that all my efforts were not only in vain, they were also pointless."

"Now, J'onn, wait just a second…" Lantern tried. When J'onn interrupted again, he quickly typed in the commands needed to tie his conversation in to Shayera's com link.

"No, Lantern. I have had more than enough time to consider these things and many others. For what ends would such a record be useful? Would the human race be willing or even capable of understanding the Martian histories? Countless billions of other intelligent species have met similar fates across the cosmos, but still life continues oblivious to this. Our lessons learned, the beauty of our lives… they are inconsequential."

"_They live on through __**you**__, J'onn!"_ Shayera all but shouted over her com link as she made her way to the Batcave entrance. _"As long as you're alive, your culture is alive."_

"I don't want that burden any longer."

"_But J'onn…"_

"NO! I have made my decision. I am incapable, unwilling and unworthy to labor such responsibility."

Shayera jogged down the stairs and all practically sprinted across the cave to the microphone, shoving Lantern out of the way.

"No, you listen to **me**, Manhunter! I'm not going to sit here and let you feel sorry for yourself just because you're having a tough time! For crying out loud, J'onn, you can't possibly mean that…"

"You insolent woman! I have endured countless eons **ALONE** and weathered hardships that you couldn't possibly comprehend! Do not presume to tell me that I am unqualified to determine my own fate!"

John and Shayera stared slack-jawed at the monitor. Neither of them could remember any kind of outburst like that from their friend. It was alarming, verging on frightening. For a moment, he wasn't their friend any more, but some kind of huge, green alien from some other planet…

"J'onn, please," Shayera finally found the spine to say. "Calm down for a minute. Let me get Diana and Bruce and we can all discuss this."

"There is nothing to discuss. I told you that I have made my decision."

"_What decision?"_ Batman's cold voice broke in over the com system.

"I need Lantern to take me to Mars."

"_Why?"_ Batman demanded.

"_Yes, J'onn,"_ Diana's pleasant voice chimed in, _"why do you need to go to Mars?"_

Stewart recalled what J'onn had said when he returned; _"I yam glad yur back."_ It seemed like he meant something more than simply being happy that Lantern returned. His enthusiasm was because now he had somebody to do this for him.

Everybody listening was awaiting the answer with baited breath. The seconds crawled before the Martian steeled himself and answered with a tone of voice that brokered no discussion.

He took a rather large breath and spoke with clear, quiet resolve;

"That is where I want to die."

* * *

**AN: Here's the bad news; I STILL won't be updating as frequently as I like.  
Good news: I have most of the remainder of the story outlined.**

**What's that mean: I'm finding that I finally am feeling better about where I'm taking this story. I have to flesh things out and all, but with this good feeling should come more enthusiasm, which (hopefully) will translate to timlier updates! No promises... just optimism.**

**Did you catch any 'Easter Eggs' in this chapter? There are two; one is a reference (by word) to something from a popular movie series, the other is a little more obscure... it's a quote from another movie.**

**Happy Reading!**


	20. Chapter 20: Loading

Typical disclaimer: I don't own the characters - just the plot and a small pile of twigs in the corner of my bedroom. No profit is gained from this story.

This chapter is un-beta tested. Sorry about that. It's been too long in getting it out as it is. Hope it reads well!

* * *

CHAPTER 20 – Loading

JUSTICE LORD'S WORLD

Bruce Wayne Alpha stormed into the Batcave.

"Get out," he barked at Shayera and John with a dominating Batman voice. His fingers attacked the keyboards of the powerful computers. The connection with Diana's com link was instantly severed.

John and Shayera exchanged glances with raised eyebrows and headed for the stairs. Before they were too far gone, Bruce followed up with another command;

"Lantern, don't go far… and make sure your ring is fully charged. You may need it—if not today, then tomorrow."

John nodded and continued up the stairs after Shayera.

Once he was sure he was alone, Bruce enacted various security protocols on the computers, ensuring he and J'onn were, indeed, the only ones that could hear what the other had to say.

"J'onn, it's Bruce. We're alone."

"_I know what you're going to say. You won't change my mind."_

"I've seen your notes."

Silence.

"Going to Mars was inevitable for you."

More silence.

"Why didn't you tell them?"

The Martian took a breath but didn't answer.

"J'onn… why didn't you-"

"_Because nothing is certain."_

Bruce drew in a heavy breath and while contemplating deeply, sighed it out slowly. He hadn't actually seen J'onn's notes… that other Bruce had. They'd just exchanged information on the subject. Still, there was no reason not to believe that other Bruce's conclusions.

"_Bruce, I implore you… please don't tell the others."_

"Why shouldn't I?!"

"_Regardless of what happens, Bruce, I won't be coming back. That's the way it must be. You know this. We've discussed it."_

"I'm not convinced."

"_I am."_

It was true. J'onn had discussed this with the other Bruce. The important parts were then forwarded on to Bruce Wayne Alpha. The preparations were made and the plans and contingencies were established.

But neither Bruce thought that J'onn's recovery was impossible.

"_Either way, Bruce… this is goodbye. I have no intention of ever seeing any of you again."_

Bruce suffered through another sigh… this was not a great first day back in his own world.

"Alright, J'onn. I'll get everything together and tomorrow Lantern will take you back to Mars."

* * *

JUSTICE LORD'S ALPHA WORLD – Ex-Lord Superman's cell, just before dinner.

"Hello, son."

Lord Superman nearly jumped out of his chair. His face crumbled into a ghostly expression of awe and fear. For a few gut-wrenching seconds, his wide, cerulean eyes tried to focus on the large-framed man that stood outside his cell:

Jonathon Kent.

"Who the hell are you?" Clark demanded, his expression now more angry than confused.

"I'm Jonathon Kent. I'm just not the Jonathon Kent you know."

Clark's eyes wandered for a few moments as he pieced together what was happening. When he finally got his mind around an idea, he turned to look right into one of the security cameras that he was aware of and dropped his declarations.

"Oh, that's cute! That's real cute!"

Jonathon panned his eyes up from Clark's face to find whatever it was that he was talking to.

"Yeah, I thought so, too," he said. "I went out to do a little maintenance on my tractor and you can imagine my surprise to find Batman waiting in the barn for me!"

"Whatever," Clark mumbled as he collapsed back into the chair with the posture of a defiant teenager. He picked up the television remote and started flipping the channels.

After a few moments, Jonathon spoke up.

"Have you always watched television like that? My Clark never was one to waste too much time on such things."

Clark ignored his 'visitor'. A few more moments passed.

"I know that he hasn't given you a whole lot of options to pass your time with, but honestly… can't you find just _one channel_ to watch and stick with that?"

More time crawled by as the channels flipped and flipped. Both men sighed at practically the same time.

"OK, look," Mr. Kent finally demanded. "I didn't ask to come here… I even told him that I didn't think there was anything that I could do, but he insisted. He told me that the Clark Kent of this world was in trouble and needed my help. I don't know what he expects me to do or what he thinks you and I can talk about, because to me… you're not my Clark and that makes us strangers. But in any case, here I am. Maybe you can explain to me what it is we're supposed to accomplish?"

"Not a [****]ing thing," Clark mumbled.

Mr. Kent couldn't hide his amazement at the word he just heard. He knew that this man wasn't his own son, but the face… the voice… it was still disturbing.

"I guess you really are nothing like my son," he said sourly. "He has manners."

Clark snorted.

"Not only that, but he also learned… on his own, actually… that the values that his mother and I tried to teach him… courtesy, responsibility, respect… those weren't just _our_ values but the decent values of good people everywhere. You… well, clearly you've learned differently."

He got no attention or responses for his efforts; just more attitude and apathy.

"I wonder if it was because your parents didn't have the same values as Martha and I or if you've just become such a lazy, rude and inconsiderate fool on your own."

Clark finally tore his eyes from the damned television. He blinked a few times in annoyance and turned in the general direction of the front of his cell.

"Why don't you just get the hell out of here, huh?" Clark demanded. "I have nothing to say to you and there's nothing that you can say to me that's going to change anything."

"Really? Is that what I was supposed to do here? _Change_ something? Like what?"

"Oh, I'm sure he thought you could talk to me like some kind of father figure and I'd get all weepy and nostalgic for the _good ol' days_ or some other crap like that."

"I see. I take it that your _good old days_ weren't all that good for you, then, huh? I'm sorry to hear that."

For the first time of the conversation, a flash of consideration crossed Clark's face.

"I have to admit, Clark… can I call you 'Clark'?"

"I don't care."

"Ah. Well… as I was saying… I have to admit, I'm having a hard time with this whole concept. To think about parallel universes and inter-dimensional portals… it's a little more than I was prepared for this evening."

"Well, I guess _you're_ nothing like the Jonathon Kent of _this world_ was, then. He wouldn't have had a problem understand things like that."

"Really?" Mr. Kent huffed with half a smile. "It was disturbing enough to think that there's another version of me somewhere… but it's downright embarrassing to think that he's smarter!"

"He's dead."

"Oh…"

Both men's eyes drifted down for a brief moment.

"Martha Kent is dead in this world, too," Clark muttered as an afterthought.

Jonathon drew in a difficult breath with that news before his face showed a dawning realization.

"_Martha?_ You… don't call her _'Ma'_?"

"She's not my mother. She's just the woman that found me on this planet."

"I see. Didn't your Martha and Jonathon Kent raise you? I just assumed that-"

"Yes, I was raised as Clark Kent here," Clark interrupted. "I lived with them until-"

"Did they not _love_ you, then?" Jonathon interrupted back. "It sounds like you have a lot of bitterness and resentment for them."

"No!" he exclaimed instinctively. He took an embarrassed second to regain his composure before continuing. "No, I have no resentment, and yes… they both claimed to love me very much… for whatever that's worth."

"Sounds like it's not worth very much to you."

Clark cast a brief glance at the weathered, hazel eyes locked onto him before his head drooped. It seemed he was losing his battle against trying to hide his shame. After a thick moment, his expression grew hard and he stared defiantly back at his visitor.

"They did what they did because they were _selfish_," Clark insiseted with a dark tone. "Oh, they _claimed_ that they were protecting me… that somebody would have taken me away and studied me like an animal in some top-secret government _zoo._ But really it was all about them! They couldn't have children of their own, so when they _found_ one, they _kept_ it… hid it away from the rest of the world. Just like all you humans… you hide your self-serving schemes under some kind of guise like _love_ or _compassion for others_ but in reality, it's all about YOU!"

Mr. Kent couldn't hide his shock at the sudden turn of the conversation, let alone the accusations that had been thrown at him. Maturely, he took a second to compose himself and calmly respond, rather than retaliate.

"Well, whatever it was that I was supposed to do here, I'm pretty sure that I wasn't supposed to defend the actions of other people or the collective shortcomings of humanity."

"Good thing… there _is_ no defense for the shortcomings of humanity."

"Interesting… I guess things really _are_ different here! From what my Clark told me about the Kryptonian race in our dimension, they had a laundry-list of faults as well. But to be honest, that never bothered me about my son. I know he wasn't born on Earth, but I also know that I raised him to try to take each person he meets as an individual… to base his opinions of a person on the actions and choices _of that person_… not because of some pre-conceived notions of their family or culture or race. You seem to be pretty quick to jump to conclusions and give in to your prejudices."

"It's _easier_ that way," Clark spat. "I learned a long time ago that the failures of your species cannot be overlooked because occasionally a single person can have a moment of intelligence. The sum of all the little, insignificant good deeds of a small percentage of people can't undo all that's wrong with you as a whole."

"I see. So you're like Mark Twain in his middle years, then, eh? _'The Damned Human Race'_ and all that… You have Mark Twain here? You read his stuff?"

Mumbles.

"Well, like I said, I'm not here to apologize for all of us little humans. But I have to admit, I'm fascinated by your point of view. You've completely separated yourself from everybody else on Earth. That must be a lonely feeling for you… My Clark thinks of himself as _one of us._ He said it gives him a stronger sense of _belonging_ and because of that, it makes him feel good to know that, when he helps somebody, he's helping his _family_… in a way."

"Good for him."

"I guess, but good for _all_ of us, really. I can't begin to tell you how many times he's helped out a single person or a small group of people… but he's also saved the entire planet more times than I like to think about. Boy! The chills I get sometimes thinking about what would have become of us had he not been there!"

"You're pathetic, you know that? And so is _he_ it sounds like. But to be fair, it took me a while to figure it out too…"

"Oh yeah? Figure out what?"

"That all that 'saving' as you call it… it was really just interference with _natural selection!_ You said it yourself; he saved the whole planet. Had he not been there, then all the humans would have been _eliminated…_ and rightfully so!"

"Hmmm… I never really took the time to try and see it from a _cosmic_ point of view. I guess you're right. The universe and all its diversity would still go on even without us puny, dirty, little Earthlings. After all, the mighty Kryptonian race was _eliminated_ and clearly your people were far superior to us. As an elevated being, I'm sure you've given this a lot more thought than I possibly could. But I feel bad that you wasted all that time trying to help us _inferior_ humans when you really could have just stepped back and watched us all die. Maybe you could have gotten on with your life a lot sooner if we were all _eliminated_ a long time ago."

Clark sighed and rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"As it is," Jonathon continued, "where I come from, there's a saying that you can't make the weak strong by making the strong weak. Maybe humans aren't as advanced as Kryptonians were, but we're not exactly worthless either. All those dangers that my son has saved us from… a lot of them came about because of our own shortcomings, you're right… but more often than not they came about because other people in our universe _despised_ us for what we have or _wanted_ what we have – and I'm not talking about the resources of the planet. No, I'm talking about our ability for compassion and love for one another… for others, even strangers… our ability to pull together and overcome hardships… I'm talking about our capacity for _good._"

Again, briefly… Clark's face flashed with a moment of contemplation. This wasn't the first time he'd heard things like this… Had he forgotten them?

"I've talked to other alien beings besides my son, too, you know. I like to think that we could become a great people if we could ever find it within ourselves to choose to be. All things being equal, humanity is a pretty amazing race. And that's what my son strives every day to ensure; that things are equal, that there's a sense of balance. That's what 'Justice' means in our world. When evil tips that balance, he and his colleagues tip it back the right way… but they never tip it too far the other direction. They don't run our lives for us… they just make sure that the conditions stay right so that we are free to run them ourselves… even if that means allowing us to make choices that could hurt us. I'm surprised you don't see that."

Jonathon paused and watched.

Clark had actually been listening, but at the lull, he quickly looked away.

"Or maybe you _do_ see that, but the concept of keeping the balance is just too hard for you accept."

That got Clark's attention even more. He snapped his angry face up to look Jonathon square in the eye. Appropriately, Mr. Kent didn't flinch one bit.

"Maybe," Jonathon continued, "you weren't _strong enough_ to allow others to make their own mistakes. Does that scare you; the thought of people making mistakes? It's obvious that **something** was keeping you here – otherwise you could have left the planet a long time ago. It's obvious that there's **something** in this world that you hold dear. I've read somewhere that sometimes people try to dominate a situation or another person because they are over-protective… that the thought of anything bad happening is too painful… too frightening. I wonder if the pain of losing something or somebody special scares you too much."

"Don't stand there and pretend like you know me!" Clark demanded, finally standing up and giving his guest his full attention. "Why don't you just go back to whatever universe you were pulled from and leave me the hell alone?!"

"Oh, I'm sure that will happen soon enough. But the more I think about it, the more I'm starting to realize what a rare gift it is for me to be here. I feel a little like George Bailey. As tragic as it is to see somebody _just like my son_ stripped of his incredible powers and caged up like a criminal… it really is a rare gift, indeed."

"Just get out of here!" Clark spat, throwing his hand up in disgust and taking an imposing step forward.

"I think it reaffirms what I've believed about my Clark for pretty much his whole life; that even without his powers, he's an incredible man… because he hasn't abandoned the notions of love and loyalty, friendship and hope…"

"Would you LEAVE?!" Clark seethed, continuing to step furiously towards his 'visitor'.

"He hasn't wallowed in self-pity because there's nobody else like him left in the whole universe. He hasn't succumbed to the temptation to use his abilities for selfish and tyrannical reasons. He's comfortable with himself… has thick enough skin to accept criticism."

"BRUCE! Get this guy out of here NOW!" Clark erupted to the camera in the corner, standing immediately across the Plexiglas shield from the calm and collected Mr. Kent.

"He has _character… _and it's a strong enough character to allow him to face the concept of loss and grief if it allows others the dignity and freedom to choose their own way. He's astute enough to let people pay for their own mistakes even if that payment may allow pain or suffering… even death in some cases. He knows that he can't save the entire world… because it's not _his_ to save. He's wise enough to know when to step in and when not to – regardless of his critics."

"I said GET OUT OF HERE!" Clark shouted, slamming his fist against the door.

Mr. Kent didn't flinch.

"I guess Martha and I did a pretty good job with him after all. I'm just sorry that your own parents didn't do the same for you."

Red-faced and fuming, Clark beat his fist again. Then again and again and again.

Mr. Kent didn't move.

As his fists pounded, Clark's fury boiled up into a rage and he resorted to hoisting his cell's only chair and throwing it at the Plexiglas shield. When it crashed loudly and clattered to the floor harmlessly, he threw it again. He laced his actions irate ravings and threats. He resorted again to beating the Plexiglas with his balled-up fists, shouting himself hoarse.

Jonathon Kent stood by with a vanilla expression, watching with very little emotion. Clark continued to thrash and rant like an animal, pounding the glass, twisted and furious.

"I'm sorry, Clark," Jonathon finally said with ample sincerity, not sure if Clark was even listening as he raged. "I hope you find a way to restore your dignity – if you ever had any. I'll be praying for you."

With that, he slowly turned and left. He made his way through the cavernous darkness of the training arena all the while ignoring the defiant profanities that were bellowed out in his honor. He involuntarily shuddered as he reached the door, Clark's incoherent ravings echoing in the distance. It wasn't long before he found Batman waiting for him at the consoles of the powerful computers.

"Did that go the way you expected it to go?" Jonathon asked.

"Pretty much. The violence of his reaction suggests that something has hit close to home. You've given him a lot to think about."

"I guess…" Jonathon said, shrugging. His face grew tighter with an expression of grief and disturbance. Even with the sound turned down, the view the monitors showed of Clark's cell was still disturbing: he hadn't stopped his tantrum.

They stood in silence before Mr. Kent finally drew in a cleansing breath and looked at Batman expectantly.

"Well, is this the part where we go through that magic doorway of yours and I can get back to my tractor?"

"Almost. First I need to make sure you fully understand that nobody… _nobody_ can know about this."

"I understand."

"Not your Clark… not even your wife."

"Don't you have some kind of mind-wiping device that can-"

"I don't think that will be necessary," Batman interrupted. His voice held a slightly pleasant tone, betraying the amount of trust and faith that he had in the old farmer. It was as close to praise as a Batman was going to give in such a time.

* * *

JUSTICE LORD ALPHA WORLD – Early the next morning in Containment Cell #2

The Martian Manhunter heard the speakers turn on.

"_We're all here, J'onn. Go ahead."_

"Thank you, Batman," J'onn answered.

The huge alien took a moment to compose himself. Even after all this time without his powers, the emptiness in his mind and the void of other beings' emotions was still something he had difficulty accepting.

His untold suffering alone on Mars was the only thing he could compare it to. There, alone without a soul to which he could relate, he was forced to endure that cold, bleak existence devoid of those comforting connections. At least then he could accept it. He **knew **he was alone. There was nothing foreign about not feeling another being's presence because he knew there were no other beings around. But not here. Not on Earth.

No, he knew he wasn't alone here. He knew that there were people near-by, if not physically, then at least mentally. Try as he might, he couldn't pretend or persuade himself to believe he was isolated. In failing that, the hollowness he felt was that much more hellish.

And now, as he was preparing to bid farewell to the closest thing he had to a family in eons, his own emotions were the only ones he felt, which, in turn, made them that much more powerful. Had he the strength to suppress his own sadness, he probably would have come to the realization that it was better this way. Because if he were able to sense the others' feelings, it would have been no better.

Except for Batman.

"Thank you, all, for coming," he started, although he knew that it was cliché… to humans, at least.

"As you all know, I've asked Green Lantern to take me back to Mars. I told you that I wanted to die there. I do. There are many customs and traditions that I wish to observe on my home world before this comes to pass. As much as I have grown to love Earth, all of her inhabitants and all of you in particular, please understand that I am first and foremost a being of Mars. I would like to spend my remaining time amongst those places that are dear to me, honoring the memory of my family and culture in a way that is befitting. I trust that you understand this and won't take it as a judgment of you or as a detractor of my affection for any of you… for in a way, I regard each of you as members of my family as well.

"John Stewart, I would like to begin with you. While we will have time to share our private goodbyes during our trip to Mars, I want to speak some of my thoughts and feelings for you with the others in witness. I want them to know of the utmost respect that I have for you. In my vast travels and otherworldly encounters, I have come across countless men of honor and integrity. Martians are not selfish in their observations, so you can be assured that, when I say that I have never come across a nobler instrument for order and justice than you, John Stewart, that it is not an embellishment or exaggeration. The Green Lantern Corps should be honored to have you as one of their own. I am glad to have known you and to have fought by your side. Thank you for all you have done with me and for me.

"Bruce… Batman… I must address those two men separately because to me, it has always been best to think of them as different people. For all his faults, I wish Batman well. While I was never given much of a chance to build a strong connection with him on an emotional level, professionally, he was the stalwart pillar of steadfast strength and determination that gave our team the ambition to persevere, even amongst the direst of circumstances.

"As for you, Bruce… of all that I would like to say to you, I will honor your wishes of simplicity. So please allow me to say only this; keep the doors to light and love open. You will need them.

"Shayera Hol; you are my dear, dear friend. A visitor to Earth, like me, we shared a common pain. It was your passion that fueled our team as well as kept my spirit hungry for righteousness. Your adventurous soul is an inspiration and, while it may sound odd to hear, believe me when I say; that even your difficulties in being accepted were a source of nourishment for me. You have taught me more about myself than I would have ever believed and even more about the Human Race than any human ever could. Please continue to allow your loves and joys to flourish. The beauty of those gifts cannot be overstated, nor can one encompass all that they mean to those around you.

"And now, Diana; my beloved, blooming child… Our kindred spirits intertwined and built a cohesion that was… that IS very, very special to me. You truly are a gift to the people of Earth. Please know that, despite your centuries of living, your life has only just begun. You have known pain and loss, but only recently has it touched your soul in such a profound way as to encroach on your reason for being; you were made to be a beacon of Love and Hope. Please strive to recapture those words in your own heart. And please don't mourn for even a moment our parting. Instead, find strength in the memory of our friendship such that you can continue to bring those cherished notions to those who need them most. You are needed, Diana, Princess of the Amazons, by individuals as well as the whole of humankind. It is an awesome and wonderful burden, and one I know you will carry with grace and dignity. Farewell."

XXXXX

Bruce sat in his chair apart from the others. While they were tearfully watching the main monitor and listening intently to J'onn's valediction, he alone had a view of a secondary monitor. Out of courtesy and respect to the Martian, he, too, listened and watched, but the Batman within kept one keen eye on the smaller screen and the view that it showed: the captive Clark Kent. Bruce had fed Clark's television with the same images and sounds the rest were observing and he was expertly noting each of Clark's reactions to all that was being said.

When J'onn had finished, Bruce typed a few commands. The main monitor everyone else was watching changed to show both cells at once.

"J'onn, there is one more person you might want to address," he said kindly.

"_Is he there with you?"_ Manhunter asked with true surprise.

"No, but he can see you and hear you," Bruce answered. Then after a few more computer commands he added; "You can hear him as well."

J'onn took in a hard breath and nodded in determination.

"_Yes, of course. Thank you, Bruce."_

The others watched as the two aliens said their final goodbyes.

"_Kal-el? May I speak with you for a moment?"_

Clark looked uncomfortable in the extreme. Nobody had told him of J'onn's decision to go to Mars, so he had to deduce what was transpiring only by what he had heard J'onn say. And now, knowing full well that he was being watched and heard by everybody while he and J'onn discussed whatever it was that they were going to discuss… it wasn't something that he seemed very prepared for.

"_I… I'm listening, J'onn."_

"_Good. I had thought that I might not get a chance to speak to you before I left. I'm glad to have this opportunity."_

"_What's going on, J'onn? Where are you going?"_

"_I'm going away, Superman. I won't be coming back."_

The others watching either raised a curious eyebrow or shared questioning glances with each other at the mention of Clark's empowered name.

"_Were you able to listen to what I had to say to the others?"_ J'onn asked.

"_I heard."_

"_Good. I hope that the things I said had meaning for you."_

Clark didn't answer.

"_You've done a wonderful thing here, Superman. When I first arrived on this planet, I had very little hope for the cultures that I found. Despite all the majesty and wonder, there was so much pain. Those who were hurting were not seeking comfort or solace, but instead were intent on revenge and retribution. The darkness and despair that threatened to consume the beauty of this place was overwhelming. The magnificent people that you and I have had the honor to serve with helped to quell the suffering, but as individuals, our efforts were not enough to overtake the degradation. Together, however, we've succeeded in saving humanity from its own destructive tendencies. It is a worthy accomplishment that we wouldn't have been able to bring to fruition had we not become a band of comrades."_

Bruce took a quick glance at the others and gauged their own reactions. Even though he was speaking to Clark, Manhunter's message was one for them all. Bruce could tell that the others, too, were affected.

"_Please remember, Superman that all glory is fleeting. The true immortality of your legacy will neither be measured in wrongs you have righted nor in the wrong-doers that you punished. You will be remembered for the vision with which you inspired us all… for the example you set in how to treat one's neighbor… for the vindication you bring to every individual who knows that they have importance because of your congenial ability to acknowledge their existence. The facts will become footnotes in the annals of history, but the __**vision **__will endure as a foundation for the whole planet._

"_Our alliance was only possible because of __**you**__. Our individual strengths allowed us to fight the battles of justice, but they also prevented us from learning to overcome our differences. Without a leader… a __**champion**__ to pull us and keep us together, we would have eventually fallen back into our comfortable isolations. Despite our collective gifts, none of us had what you had. Of all your powers and abilities, it was your __**strength of character **__that helped bridge our collective chasms, remain focused and build an unparalleled synergy that vanquished the despair of the world._

"_I thank you for this, Superman. I thank you for teaching us, for serving with us, for helping us, for saving us, and for __**leading**__ us. Your vision of a better world is an inspiration that each of us believe in. I regret that I won't be with you on your continued fight, because I won't be here to enjoy the rewards with you... and there will be rewards. You __**will**__ succeed, of that I am certain, and the ultimate reason won't be a superpower measured in strength or speed or energy. No, the real reason will be that you all share a common goal and march under the banner of unity, striving as a single entity towards truth and justice. Earth will be a better world."_

* * *

Author's Notes: I'm sure you noticed that, at the ending there, J'onn never called their group the Justice Lords. Yep, that was on purpose. My intention was to show that J'onn not only knew that the Batmen wanted to reform the Lords back into a League, but he was also on-board with that. I hope that's what you took away from it.

Last chapter Easter Egg: "Who IS that girl?" I lifted that line from The Blues Brothers - towards the end when Carrie Fisher confronted Jake and Elwood... I love that movie! Maybe this line was a little to generic for many people to catch that... sorry.

Thanks for reading. I hope to have the next chapter out before too long!

WL


End file.
